


this is our place (we make the rules)

by AdeleDazeem



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, Light Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, author picked and chose the parts of canon that suited her fancy, bc it's them but don't worry we're all mostly here to have a good time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdeleDazeem/pseuds/AdeleDazeem
Summary: The dating scene in New York sucks worse than a blood-starved vamp. Thankfully, Hope and Josie devise a work-around.alternate summary: why talk about this pull between us when we could just fuck and continue to coexist in homoplatonic, domestic bliss instead?
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 105
Kudos: 408





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hmm... would you believe I was working on the lawncare!au and my hand slipped?
> 
> some notes on this "canon adjacent" universe:  
> We are roughly ten years post-season two.  
> The merge did not happen (don't ask me why, we do not care, all that matters is that they figured something out and both twins survived - yay, no death!).  
> Oh, and the whole Landon at Salvatore debacle just straight up did not happen. Sorry?

“Why does dating have to be so hard?”

They’re going to need another bottle of wine. If this is where Josie is taking the conversation, they could be here awhile. For now, though, Hope pours the remainder of the red into Josie’s glass, because after her night she definitely deserves it. 

"I'll be honest with you, Jo," Hope passes Josie’s wine glass back to her, "I have no fucking idea. But it's getting pretty damn old.” 

She settles back into the cushion trying to find a comfy position. The couch had been an impulse purchase this past Fall after a particularly successful sale and even now, months later, Hope is still trying to get used to the stiff velvet fabric. 

Josie had been a good sport about the whole thing.

Even when Hope called her from the showroom more than a little panicked after signing the receipt -- because yes, the sale had been profitable and her gallery just may close the year in the black, but it was still a single piece of furniture with a four-figure price tag, and oh my god, Josie, was forest green even going to go with their living room decor?

Josie had ducked into the bathroom at work and soothed Hope down from an impending panic attack, promising her it would be ok and that if worse came to worse they could redecorate to accommodate the new addition. They didn't have to redecorate too much, thank God, but it still ended up being less than ideal.

And, Hope realized, that while Josie had never said a single negative thing about the couch, all of her compliments have been hilariously vague. Hope has heard her roommate say everything from ‘it’s the most adult-couch I’ve ever seen’ to simply ‘wow’ to Hope’s personal favorite ‘this is the couch I would expect a Brooklyn gallery owner to have in her living room.’

Josie won’t say it, but she hates the pretentious thing just as much as Hope. 

But it’s here and, as the owner of an art gallery in Brooklyn, Hope feels somewhat obligated to keep the ode to mid-century modern design. Plus, their old much comfier couch has long since been sold on Craigslist.

So for better or worse, the couch is staying. Hope has made her bed and damnit now she’s going to have to lie in it. Hope squinches down and readjusts her legs. She just wishes her proverbial bed was a smidge more comfortable.

Josie hands her one of the squashy yellow pillows she’s been hoarding on her end of the couch. The pillows are the only thing saving the sofa from being thrown out the 14th-floor window. They were, of course, a Josie purchase. Hope has since abdicated all furniture/apartment decisions to her roommate. She's proven to be much better at this kind of thing than Hope. 

“Thanks.” Shoving the pillow down between her spine and the firm arm of the couch, Hope turns her thoughts back to the topic of commiseration at hand. “As two pansexuals you’d really think the market would be in our favor.” 

“How can everyone be just so… blech.”

“It’s like a curse has been cast upon this city.” Hope pauses, brow wrinkling. “Wait, would we know if there had been a curse cast upon this city?”

“I feel like Dorian would have given us a heads up if that were the case,” Josie says, brushing the thought aside easily. “He and Lizzie have been pretty good about staying on top of that kind of stuff lately.”

Hope hums in agreement. “Fair. We sure Penelope isn’t back in the states? That girl was like a magnet for mayhem at Salvatore...”

Josie rolled her head to pin Hope with a dark look. “You know half of that wasn’t even her fault. I was the one that started those fires and Malivore was to blame for the rest of the actual magical chaos.”

“Still.”

Josie sighs. “What is it with you and my sister and Penelope? It’s been years and you two still won’t let your grudges go.”

“She hurt you!”

Josie raises an eyebrow. “So have lots of people.”

Admonished, Hope drops her gaze back to the dregs of wine in her glass. She knows she falls into that category herself. Maybe that's partially why she's so anti-Penelope. You're likely to be more sensitive to the faults you yourself share after all. 

She and Josie have had just about every variation of this conversation hundreds of times since Penelope first left for Belgium nearly ten years ago. Josie has had plenty of exes in the interim, but there’s just something about the snarky witch that’s always irked Hope. Whenever she pops back up into their lives, either for work or the very rare personal check-in, Hope finds herself fighting down a snarl. 

“To answer your question, though," Josie says temperately. "No. Last I heard, Mom had her on a posting in Germany. You know. Where Pen’s _wife_ is from.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Hope grumbles. She’s made her peace with the fact that when it comes to Penelope Park, she and Josie will never see eye to eye.

Josie, as usual, ignores her petulance. “Even _she_ found someone,” she says, staring into the middle distance with a frown. “She doesn't even speak German and yet- I just- Ugh. Why can’t it be as easy as Lizzie and MG make it look?”

Sighing dramatically, Hope drops her head onto the armrest behind her. “I guess we can’t all fall in love with our childhood best friend like some stupid real-life star-crossed lovers.”

Josie returns the sigh. There’s been a lot of that happening tonight. Josie had come home early from her date and gone straight to the wine rack. Hope hadn’t even needed to ask, merely closed her laptop, and got out the wine glasses. 

Josie rubs her forehead. “I’d settle for just a lover I don’t want to hex after two weeks." She takes a healthy sip of her wine.

Hope holds her own glass up. “Cheers to that!” 

Josie distractedly tilts her glass in Hope’s direction. “You know what I miss?” She asks, swirling her wine in her glass contemplatively.

“Orgasms brought on by someone other than yourself?” Hope offers, causing Josie to snort, her cheeks blushing almost as red as the wine.

“I was going to say the moment right before a first kiss, you pervert.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s the most nerve-racking part.”

“Noooo, it’s all about the anticipation. The tension. The whole is it or isn’t it going to happen bit...” Josie looks wrapped up in the imaginary moment, fingers tracing the rim of her glass absentmindedly.

Hope pulls her eyes away from the mesmerizing movement and digs her socked toe into Josie’s shin. “You are… entirely too sappy for your own good.” The fluffy fabric of Josie’s house sock catches on the nylon weave of Josie’s stockings. 

Josie’s still dressed from her date and Hope thinks for a second about how funny they must look. Josie in her going out clothes -- a skirt and cream-colored blouse, hair still done perfectly despite the wind howling outside -- reclining next to Hope in her staying in clothes -- worn college tee, baggy sweatpants, and hideous fluffy socks Ric stuffed in everyone's stocking two Christmases ago.

Josie cuts her eyes to her roommate. “Fine, I also miss having quality sex with someone I genuinely enjoy. There, are you happy?”

“I’d be happier if I _was_ having quality sex, but yes, thank you, that’s a start.”

“The problem though," Josie says slowly, "is that it’s so hard to find someone that knows how to do it properly.” Josie is back to reminiscing. There’s considerably less wine in her glass now and Hope thinks she knows exactly where it’s gone: straight to her roommate’s head. “More often than not, all of that tension? Just fizzles out and it’s not half as good as you expect it’ll be. Ya know?”

“I know. And it’s like impossible to nicely tell them what you do or do not want. Like, honestly, how are you supposed to tell someone to please stop gnawing at your boob like a dog with a bone without knocking them off their game.”

“Really?” Josie snorts incredulously. “A dog with a bone?” 

Hope waves her arm dismissively. Maybe Josie's not the only one feeling her alcohol. “Some people, as much as they like to say they’re boob men or boob women, have absolutely no idea what to do with the things once they’re uncovered.”

Josie takes a moment to appraise Hope’s boobs before responding. “What a waste. A pair like that? Should be _treasured_.”

_“Thank you,”_ Hope knows Josie's messing with her, but, sarcastic or not, she appreciates the understanding all the same. She leans her head on the hand propped on the back of the couch. "I just wish it was more normalized to sit down and have a conversation about things beforehand, ya know?"

"I'm sorry," Josie flung a hand out to grab Josie's ankle. "Did I just hear The Hope Mikaelson say she wished people talked more?"

"Oh, spare me the dramatics, Katharine Hepburn." Hope kicked Josie's hand away with a chuckle. "What can I say? I've learned a thing or two through the years. We can all thank your therapist for that."

"God, I do miss Jean."

"So do I," Hope said matching the same wistful tone. "She could really rock the hell out of those sheath dresses."

Josie's grip on her ankle turned into a pinch. "I knew that was the reason you insisted on meeting me after my sessions!"

Hope shrugged. "Can't a girl want to check on her best friend _and_ creep on her MILF of a therapist?"

She sees the whack coming, but she let Josie slap her foot in disapproval all the same. Josie's too cute to deny sometimes. Ok, most of the time.

Hope just laughs and she twists in the direction of the kitchen, trying to clearly visualize the location of the wine rack out of sight behind the counter. This is, of course, much easier to do when she isn't a bottle in already, but you can't control the hand life deals ya.

Carefully, she conjures a bottle from the rack, hoping it's another pinot. It isn't, but she's too lazy to try for another. They both have work in the morning but Josie seems content to stay up and talk for a bit longer. Hope figures they may as well not be parched while doing it.

"Malbec, okay?" She asks Josie who nods easily. Hope looks at the cork critically, squinting one eye, tongue between her teeth. "Actually, can you-?"

Josie's already setting down her wine glass and siphoning a little magic from Hope's ankle. This was by far their best party trick in college (Hope knows for a fact it got Josie laid during at least one coven party), and while Hope did technically teach the spell to Josie the younger witch has always been better at it. Josie pops the cork perfectly just like she always does. 

"Thank you," Hope says taking the bottle back to pour their wine. "Now where were we?"

"You were objectifying my mental healthcare provider," Josie said archly. "Which is not allowed in this house, by the way, healthcare provider or not. You know the rules."

Hope rolls her eyes but concedes. "I know, I know. A dollar in the jar. How could I forget after the last congressional election nearly bankrupted us," she grimaces at the memory, then whines, "My purse is way over there, though. Can I just do it when I get up?"

Josie allows this. She takes a sip of wine, then contemplates the liquid in her glass. "You know," she says, "thanks to all of your _creeping_ , you do know Jean was 100% convinced you were my overbearing girlfriend, right?"

Hope nearly spits out the last of her wine. "So that's why she spurned my advances?"

"Well, that and the fact she was happily married."

Hope slumps in dejection then waves the whole thing away. "That's absurd."

Josie snorts. "That some people can be happily married?"

"No, the suggestion that if I had been dating you I would have been lusting after another woman."

Josie blushes a pretty shade of pink and Hope smiles proudly. "It certainly would have saved me a helluva lot of therapy time," Josie mutters to herself.

"Aw, come on," Hope wiggles her foot and Josie's hand by extension. "How much time could it really have taken to convince her we weren't in love?"

Josie hums, eyes unfocused. "You'd be surprised."

Before Hope can apologize and/or ask what exactly that's supposed to mean, Josie's eyes have re-focused and she's turning to Hope with a decidedly wicked cast to her smirk.

Every once in awhile, Hope can see some of the old Dark Josie come out. They'd banished her years ago, but the effects still remain, and occasionally glimmers of her alter ego will appear. It happens most frequently when she's been drinking. Now is a prime example. Hope both loves and fears these moments in equal measure.

She's known Josie since they were kids. Between Salvatore and voluntarily rooming together during undergrad and beyond, Hope likes to think she knows her best friend pretty well. Maybe even better than her sister. Hell, for a period of time in high school, Hope was literally inside Josie's mind.

All of that and still, moments like these, Hope never knows exactly what Josie's going to say or do. It's a little thrilling now that the threat of Josie unleashing a dark magic Armageddon upon them all is no longer seriously on the table.

"So other than respectfully interacting with your boobs, what kinds of stuff would you discuss with your partner pre-intercourse?" She asks surprising a deep belly laugh out of Hope. "Do they need to braid your hair and tell you you're pretty, too?"

"No, you asshole," Hope huffs, still laughing. "And they don't have to be _respectful_ so much as just not teethe on them." She quickly amends, "Not to say biting is a complete no, I just need something other than _only_ biting."

"I think you've been dating too many wolves," Josie says with a grimace.

"Hey, I _am_ part wolf, thank you. And that's speciesist." She points her glass menacingly in Josie's direction. "Besides," she sniffs. "The guy I'm mainly thinking of, I'll have you know, was a perfectly normal human."

"Fine, fine," Josie concedes. "I'm sure wolves can be perfectly polite lovers."

Hope looks at her critically. "Have you really never dated a werewolf?"

Josie shakes her head, "No," then lifts her eyebrow and asks archly. "Let me guess: I'm missing out." 

"Well, duh," Hope gestures to herself clearly in exemplum. "I mean, _in moderation_ wolves can be fantastic lovers."

She shoots Josie a smug look, which Josie meets with an eye-roll. "Moderation, right," Josie says exaggeratedly slowly. "As in moderated by one or more other magical classes in the same body, right?"

"Hey, your words, not mine," Hope shrugs blithely then straightens up. "That just seems crazy, though. I mean you've dated every other class -- humans, witches, even that one vamp in college."

"Not _every_ one," Josie corrects with another pointed look at Hope. "But yeah," Josie replies thoughtfully. "It's not on purpose though. Just, other than Raf -- which we know didn't work out -- none of the pack at Salvatore ever really appealed to me. They were always so, so macho." She makes a displeased expression with her mouth. "Then, we moved here and there just aren't that many here in the city. You know that."

Hope hums in agreement at the last part, there are times it's hard for even her to handle being so cooped up in the sprawling concrete prison of New York. It's half the reason she likes going to Mystic Falls for Thanksgiving with the Saltzmans so much. She can wolf out and run to her heart's content in the woods out there.

She lifts an eyebrow and focuses on a different part of Josie's explanation. "None of the pack at school appealed to you? Really, none?"

Josie rolled her eyes again. This time when she whapped Hope's foot she used the pillow clutched in her lap to do it. "Technically, you were never part of the pack, Miss Too Cool for Organized Groups."

"Fine, I wasn't into the macho testosterone circle jerk any more than you were." She snorts. "Geeze. Try telling one of those dudes there's more to life _and sex_ than pure aggressive displays of strength."

"I mean..." Josie readjusts on her cushion. "I'm not _opposed_ to aggression or displays of strength..."

Hope turns to look with interest at her friend. "Really?"

"I mean, I don't want to be like hurt or threatened or anything, but I don't mind being picked up and carried to bed or like placed on a countertop or what have you."

Hope tilts her head and her brain helpfully conjures up all of the above. First with some faceless person picking Hope up herself and then, unexpectedly, a mixture of Hope picking Josie up and placing her on the counter and vice versa. She startles at these last sets of images.

"But it's all about balancing forces," Josie is saying back in the here and now where no one is picking anyone up, just two gals chilling on their uncomfortable couch casually discussing personal sexual preferences like they've been obliquely doing all night.

"Right." Hope swallows but her mouth is still dry. "Balancing forces." She's barely even listening to her roommate, still so thrown off by the random, inappropriate image swirling in her head.

"Yeah, y'know like a healthy mixture of aggressive and gentle?"

"Oh." Hope's mind goes back to the counter scene she was just thinking of. What would she like someone to do in that situation? “Like... When someone bites your neck but then runs their tongue lightly over the same spot?”

She shivers at the thought. Yeah... That's exactly what she would like. She tries to hide the reaction behind another gulp of wine.

Josie meanwhile, leans back into the couch, clearly envisioning it, and lets her imagination continue building onto the dreamt up scene. “Or when someone pulls your hair but kisses you softly, your lips just barely brushing…"

Wow, Hope can picture that perfectly, too. “Less a kiss, more like you’re just breathing together.” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Josie agrees emphatically. “And when they do that _during_?” Josie shivers.

"During?" She looks at Josie for further explanation and is surprised to find the other woman already looking at her, her dark brown eyes even darker than usual. 

Her eyes don't leave Hope's as she answers, “While you're fucking, Hope."

Josie's voice is already relatively low, but now it's barely audible over the gravel in the words. It shocks Hope into breathless silence. Hope doesn't know how Josie is doing it, but somehow without either of them having moved a muscle, Hope feels like a prey animal and Josie is the predator advancing closer and closer.

Her nostrils flare as Josie continues, steadily without a hint of the nerves that seem to be paralyzing Hope's lungs. "You know. Panting against each other’s mouth before one of you comes and you fold into each other."

All Hope can really say to that is a decidedly breathy, "Fuck.” A beat. Then: “Fuck,” Hope repeats, more exhalation than expletive this time, because holy shit, she’s never seen that look from her best friend before. 

“Yeah,” Josie says lowly, not looking away, and the word slides in between Hope’s ribs, gives her heart a steady thump, before melting down along her spine and pooling low and liquid and hot between her legs.

“Josie.”

“Hope.”

No one says anything. There doesn't seem like there's enough space on the couch, in the living room, in the city for any more words after what Josie just said. What _both_ of them said. Hope may feel helpless, but she knows she marched into this situation willingly, describing the shared fantasy right alongside Josie.

The air between them feels much too warm. Like the heater is turned up too high. When Hope breathes it into her lungs her body feels like it’s igniting. Josie’s hands are still against the pillow in her lap. No more fidgeting, just hushed anticipation. 

Anticipation of what, Hope is only starting to realize. 

If it wasn’t for her heightened sense of hearing, Hope would think they’d both been turned to stone. But as it is… She can hear Josie’s heartbeat, just as fast as her own.

Hope allows her eyes to drop to Josie’s throat where her pulse is just barely visible. She licks her lips. Thinks about doing what she described a moment ago: biting the delicate skin there and soothing it with a swipe of her tongue.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Josie’s hands tighten infinitesimally on the fabric of the pillow. Hope wonders if that's what Josie's hands would do if Hope were to kiss her neck like that: tighten and dig into her back. Or would they tangle in her hair as Josie had described doing...? 

Hope would be fine with either option she thinks.

Would be fine with anything Josie decided to do, actually... So long as she just--

Out in the hall, a door slams and boisterous voices can be heard echoing down the enclosed space. The holidays ended a week ago, but people are still trying to cling to any festivity they can. 

Inside the living room, Josie jolts like the door had swung shut on her face, not a neighbor’s apartment. She sits up, stockinged feet flat on the carpet, and severs whatever connection had just been building between the two of them.

“Jesus,” Hope gasps out a laugh, following suit and sitting up. “What the hell was in that wine?” She looks over at Josie and her roommate appears just as shaken as she is. 

Her eyes bounce around the room, never quite landing on Hope as she stands and hesitatingly says, “I should…”

Hope follows suit. “Yeah, me too. I’ll just,” she gestures uselessly towards the kitchen, “put away the glasses.”

There’s another horrible moment when she takes Josie’s glass from her and their fingers brush and their eyes meet, but then Josie’s pulling away almost too quickly for Hope to even grab the stemware, nearly dropping it onto the floor.

“Goodnight,” Josie says already halfway across the room.

“Night,” Hope murmurs. 

She sets the glasses in the sink and banishes the empty bottle to the recycling bin with a quick cleansing spell. She grips the counter and hangs her head, listens to her jagged breaths. She focuses on them, counting on the inhale and tries desperately to not listen to Josie getting ready for bed in the other room. There are fifteen feet and a closed door between them, but Hope’s heightened hearing makes it feel like Josie is getting undressed right there in the same room as her.

Through her haze, she can hear the zipper of Josie’s skirt. Hope inhales sharply. Counts to ten then exhales slowly. Tries valiantly to focus on the cool countertop beneath her hands, not the memory of Josie’s warm leg pressed against her own on the couch just a few moments ago. 

The memory twists. Morphs into fantasy. Now she’s thinking of that warmth pressed against her fingers as she helps Josie take off her skirt and peel those stockings down off her long, long legs. Maybe she’d drop a kiss to the freckle she knows resides just above Josie’s left knee, maybe--

Hope lurches to the sink and throws the faucet on cold. She doesn’t wait for the tap to turn freezing cold, just immediately splashes water on her face. Anything to wash the thoughts from her mind. 

Josie is her friend. Her best friend. Her roommate for fuckssake. As if it couldn’t get any messier, their names are both on this extended lease. This isn’t someone she’s run into at the pub. She should not be thinking about Josie like this, no matter the signs she was giving Hope just before on the couch. 

No matter the fact that Josie has turned on music in her room in a bid to no doubt block Hope’s hearing. 

Against her will, Hope’s ears strain to pick up anything, anything that might clue her into Josie being in the same sexually frustrated boat she’s in. She already knows she is. She listened to her detail a few of her physical desires not five minutes ago. She saw the look Josie gave her before the moment ended. 

Before it was cut short. Who knows what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. Hope’s imagination conjures a few options, intrusive-thought-fast.

_No_. Whatever Josie might have been feeling on the couch, she did not act on it. Furthermore, she did not consent to Hope listening in on… Whatever it is she’s doing in her room right now. 

Hope hasn’t thought about Josie in this way since high school when the other girl had revealed she’d had a crush on her. They’ve made it almost a decade without something like this coming up. They’ve lived together, shared countless bottles of wine, and never once has Hope pictured what it might be like to… Act on those feelings. 

She hasn’t allowed herself to. 

A new, slightly louder song comes on in Josie’s room. Maybe she’s just watching music videos before falling asleep. Yes, that could certainly be it.

Hope really hopes that's it. 

Turning off the water and double-checking that the door is locked, Hope flees to her own room. It’s only as she is pulling the covers up to her chin and deciding on a show on Netflix to watch that the music cuts off abruptly mid-song. 

Hope blindly clicks on whatever video her cursor is hovering over. It’s a gut reaction like clicking away from a porn window when someone knocks on your door. She doesn’t even realize her finger is doing it until some dramatically scored documentary starts playing. 

Hope rolls her eyes. She supposes it could be worse. She’ll take a cheesy voice-over over Josie thinking she’s just in here, in here listening to her like some desperate creep.

A few seconds later, Josie’s door creaks open and then there’s the soft padded sound of her footsteps on the carpet. The bathroom door closes and the sink turns on. 

Of course, it’s then that Hope remembers she needs to brush her teeth, too. 

She’ll just wait, though. Give Jo some space. That would be the polite thing to do. 

Never mind that they routinely haven’t bothered with privacy or respecting each other’s personal space since maybe Freshman year of college when they wound up rooming together at NYU. Dorm space was way too tight for any niceties like that.

But that was then and this is… This is different. Hope doesn’t allow herself to specify exactly _why_ it’s different, just that it is. 

What happens when you try not to think of something, though? 

Hope rolls over and presses her face into her pillow. She blindly reaches out and turns up the volume on her laptop so that she can groan into the pillowcase in peace without fear of alerting Josie to her discomfort. 

Because there is quite a bit of noticeable discomfort if she’s being honest with herself. It’s hot under her covers, she forgot to turn the fan on before she laid down. Of course, slightly more pressingly, she’s turned on.

Damn, is she turned on. 

She can feel a sweat break out on her lower back. Whether it's from the heat of her room or her blood, she doesn’t know. What she does know is that she wants to kick off the covers and her sweatpants along with them.

She doesn’t though. Because she doesn’t trust herself to not do more than that. 

She knows that if she were to reach under the covers to shove off her too-warm sleep pants, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hand from dipping between her legs and relieving the insistent pressure building up there. 

Which is crazy. She’s twenty-seven-fucking years old. She should be able to control her urges. Especially those revolving crossing a line in one of her oldest friendships. Seems like a pretty small request. 

And yet. It feels like a herculean task.

So she lies perfectly still for all of thirty seconds before she realizes the position she has rolled into, face down on her stomach with the covers jumbled up under her, presses her pelvis down into the mattress. And if she were to just… Angle her lower body a smidge and press down…

Like a woman playing with a loaded gun, she tries it. Tilting her hips, she thrusts forward just the tiniest amount into the bed beneath her. There’s an answering twinge in her core. 

Her task is starting to feel less herculean, more Sisyphean. 

Fuck. Hope lets out the smallest of exhales into her pillow. It feels good, but she doesn’t think she could actually come from this light of pressure. 

So if she can’t come… Is she really crossing any boundaries? 

Her hips decide for her.

A handful of minutes later, Hope’s t-shirt is sticking to her lower back and she’s coming, muffling the sharp inhale into her pillow like the conscientious roommate she has learned to be since she stopped living by herself after high school. 

Technically, she was correct in her earlier assessment. She wasn’t able to finish with just the blankets bunched beneath her. In the heat of the moment, she’d gotten frustrated with hovering so close to release and slipped two fingers beneath her panties. All it took was a few awkwardly angled swipes and she was climaxing. 

That and of course the memory of how dark Josie’s lips looked against the glass, stained by her lipstick and the wine equally. The thought of how those lips might taste, might feel against her skin. The thought of Josie’s lipstick, in reality, printed and smudged on the rim of her glass, but in her imagination smudged and stamped upon her own skin.

Now that her hormones aren’t clouding her mind, the guilt hits her full force. She lays still, breathing heavily into her pillow half-hoping she’ll just accidentally smother herself like this. Then she wouldn’t have to face Jo after getting off to the thought of her. 

It’s quiet in the rest of the apartment, save for the doc still nattering away on her laptop, so she slithers out of bed. Her shirt and sweatpants clammy against her cooling body. They feel as conspicuous as a glaring red ‘A’ emblazoned on her chest. Or whatever the corresponding initial of shame would be for masturbating to your roommate without their permission. 

If she were to run into Josie now, she’s certain her friend would know what just occurred. A tiny thrill runs unbidden through her body at the thought. She squashes it down and, listening one more time to make sure Josie isn’t loose in the apartment, heads to the bathroom. 

Before brushing her teeth, she takes special care to wash her hands with soap. The lemon scent that Josie loves so much is just strong enough to blanket the latent smell of arousal she can just barely pick up. 

It’s as she’s drying her hands and reaching for her toothbrush that the intrusive thought slides into the center of her brain and refuses to be vanquished. What if that’s what Josie was doing in here a bit ago? Washing her hands, just like Hope did, after touching herself. 

Half the toothpaste ends up in the sink when Hope’s fist clenches at the thought. She washes her teeth with far more force than any dentist would recommend after that. She had hoped the discomfort of her gums as she jabs her toothbrush around in her mouth, bubbles foaming down her chin, would be enough to distract her.

It’s not.

This time when she retreats to her room, she lays on her back as still as a goddamn corpse and most definitely does not roll over onto her stomach for another quick dry-hump to alleviate the pressure still pulsing between her thighs. (Pulsing in time with the thought of Josie under cover of too-loud music videos, touching herself in just the next room over.)

In her haste, Hope once again forgot to turn on the ceiling fan. Good, she thinks, sweating under her sheets and staring daggers at the motionless fixture above her head. She deserves to suffer. 

It’s a long, hot night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao insteadddddd of doing actual job-work this morning I did this (bc fck capitalism)(but also like _fck_ girls, ya feel ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)

The suffering does not, it turns out, end when the night is over. 

Hope’s eyes are still gritty even after her shower. And the shame and guilt - she tries to scrub it away, to hide it under a dark blazer-blouse combo and makeup. All the same, when she meets Josie’s eyes in the kitchen over the coffee pot, she’s certain Josie _knows_.

Why else would Josie’s eyes immediately skitter away and her cheeks heat? If not for the fact that Josie can tell Hope got off to the things she’d said, the images she’d conjured on the couch the night before. Why else would she jump like she’d been shocked when Hope reached past her for a mug, sleeve barely brushing her hair?

Hope walks the entire eighteen blocks to the gallery, despite the miserable weather. She turns a corner and gets a face full of northern wind so powerful that her eyes water. She welcomes it. A distraction and penitence all rolled into one icy punch.

It doesn’t help.

Later, she snaps at her assistant when he interrupts an inappropriate daydream. He’s merely been bringing her the numbers from the latest set of sales, something she’d asked him specifically to do, and still, she nearly takes off his head when he knocks on her office door. It’s not his fault her thoughts keep circling the gutter. 

She only narrowly avoids hexing him into next week. Hope takes that as her cue that she needs to chill the fuck out. Sucking in a deep breath, she takes the paper from his clenched hand. He shuts her door forcefully enough to let Hope know an apology will be necessary. 

She stares unseeingly at the documents in front of her -- Why does she even have hard copies? Who uses paper these days? -- for many long minutes before she realizes the futility of the action. She stands so abruptly she nearly upends her chair, grabs her coat and gloves, and excuses herself for a lunch run. 

There are too many people in the park, even now, midday on a weekday, for her to wolf out like her blood is calling for her to do. Instead, she settles for running the loop at an appropriately human pace an inappropriate number of times. It works. For the most part. 

When she slumps back down behind her computer a few hours later she’s able to actually comprehend what the documents in front of her are telling her: after expenses and commission, they made a modest little profit. 

Her first thought, of course, damningly, is that she should pick up a bottle of wine on her way home for her and Josie to celebrate with. She has curbed her celebratory buying habits since the Sofa Debacle of 2019. Wine is much more manageable than uncomfortable furniture. 

The thought dies as quickly as it’s born when Hope remembers drinking wine with Josie less than twenty-four hours previously. Josie’s lip, dark and bold and enticing against the rim of the glass.

But no. This is ridiculous. She could not let one night of a rampant libido ruin wine with Josie for her. She might as well end this friendship right now. 

On the way home, she picks up two bottles of red, one she knows Josie loves, the other just because the label looked pretty. Josie’s just gotten home when Hope walks in, her coat still on as she sorts through the mail on the counter. She freezes when Hope walks in, eyes ricocheting between Hope’s face and the wine she sets purposefully on the counter between them like a pipe bomb dressed like a truce.

“We ran out last night,” is what Hope says, feigning nonchalance as she digs for the corkscrew. 

Across the counter, Josie straightens then holds out a hand. “Here let me.” 

Hope passes her the bottle and watches enrapt as she slowly twists her fingers in the sigil and carefully pops the cork. Now that she’s thought about Josie in this non-platonic light, she can see why this was a bit of a turn on to Josie’s suitors in college.

Josie looks up from the cork as she places it on the counter and meets Hope’s eyes. Hope wets her lips and, having been caught staring, says the first thing that comes to mind: “You’re so much better at that than me.”

Josie gives her an indecipherable look before it transforms into a well-known smirk. “It’s just a matter of being gentle. Not everything’s about brute strength, Rambo.” 

She takes the glass Hope holds out for her and pours a healthy serving. Whether by accident or design they don’t brush fingers in the exchange. 

“So, is this a positive drinking session or a negative one?” Josie asks once they both have a sip. 

“Positive,” Hope answers, then launches into a rundown of the breakdown of the most recent sale for Marshall & Mikaelson Holdings. It’s more detail than is necessary, but she just keeps talking, desperate to fill up the space between her and Josie and distance them both from last night. 

Josie, like the amazing friend she is, listens raptly to the whole spiel. She nods. She smiles. She sips her wine. She shrugs out of her coat and nearly derails Hope mid-sentence. 

Josie had still been in her robe the last time Hope had seen her this morning before darting out of the apartment like she was fleeing the scene of a crime. Therefore, Hope hadn’t seen Josie’s work outfit. Hope doesn't know if that’s a blessing or a curse now. One the one hand, she would have been prepared for this moment. On the other, she would have had the image of Josie in this deep red blouse to contend with all day.

Hope has always loved this top of Josie’s. Josie has probably never worn it without her friend complimenting her on it. Between the way the rich red sets off Josie’s coloring and how its fabric is flowy enough to just flash Josie’s clavicles enticingly in and out of view above the collar, Hope is a big fan. 

She takes in her friend’s form in the blouse now that her coat isn’t obscuring the view, and it must be a noticeable enough pause, because Josie turns to her, eyebrows wrinkled. “Here, did you want me to hang up your coat too?” Josie reaches out and Hope’s still too dumbstruck by the shadow of the blouse's collar playing across the skin of her friend’s sternum to take off her coat before Josie can step any closer. 

Hope pays the price for her slow reaction time when she has to force herself not to react when Josie’s fingers brush the warmth of her neck in the process and threaten to elicit a shiver. Or worse. 

They’ve been in the apartment for at least ten minutes and Josie’s fingers are still cold. It doesn’t matter what type of gloves she wears (Hope has bought her several pairs through the years, all to no avail) her hands are cold from the months of September to March. When they go out during this season, Hope usually ends up stuffing at least one of Josie’s hands in her own coat pocket. 

So, Hope is no stranger to the feel of Josie’s cold hands against her own much warmer skin. And still. When Josie’s fingers accidentally brush across the back of her neck in passing, Hope has to bite back a moan at the contrast. 

Hope naturally runs hot. One of the side-effects of the wolf in her. Imagining Josie’s much cooler hands on her in other areas has a blush staining her pale skin from her hairline down to her chest. She’s grateful that Josie is too busy hanging up their coats to notice how much the minor contact has affected her. 

“Uh, yeah, so. It was a good take,” she finishes lamely. She doesn't even remember what she’d been saying before. “How was your day?” She redirects quickly, taking a drink of her wine.

“Long.” Josie sags against the counter. 

“That asshole of a supervisor still giving you a hard time?”

“Is the MTA still criminally underfunded?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hope responds with a grimace, taking another drink as she pushes off the counter and heads to the fridge. “Still think you should let me talk to him. Do you want me to warm up the Thai or do you want me to cook the gnocchi?”

Behind her, Josie snorts. “If I trusted you to talk to him without threatening to curse and/or maim him, I’d maybe consider it.” She comes to stand behind Hope, peering over her shoulder into the fridge. “When did we even order the Thai?”

“It was the same night you agreed to go out with Bradley or Chad or whatever his name was again. So, Sunday?”

“Brandon,” Josie corrects, shaking her head in disgust. “Blech to both that memory and reheating. You know pad thai’s no good after the third day.”

“Out it goes,” Hope hands the container back to Josie to toss while she pulls out the gnocchi and the makings for the sauce. 

Josie kicks off her heeled boots and turns on some music. She tells Hope about her boss’s latest grievances as they prep dinner. They move around the space easily. Falling back into the groove of existing together. 

It feels like a regular evening in their apartment. Cozy and comfortable as Josie oscillates between absent-mindedly and dramatically singing along to the playlist as they work and Hope basks in the immeasurable pride of making her roommate laugh at an anecdote or interjection. 

It's only in tiny pockets of moments that last night’s tension steals into the relaxed mood. When Hope has Josie taste-test the garlic-level of the sauce and Josie makes eye contact while taking the spoon into her mouth. When Josie reaches past Hope to grab her glass for a refill. When Josie grabs Hope’s hand laughing at Hope’s impression of the snotty hipster at the bodega, the tears in her brown eyes only making them appear an even richer shade, the color high in her cheeks from the combination of alcohol and laughter. 

Hope finds herself fighting the magnetic pull of her roommate during these instances. Her body swaying forward like she’s being pulled by the tide. And Josie, radiant and just near enough to intoxicate more effectively than the wine, is the moon. 

Hope’s just lucky to not burn the sauce. On nights like tonight, she wishes the magic seen in the movies was real and she could trust some charmed pots and pans to cook so she could spend her time doing what she really wants to be doing: watching Josie loosen up, dance around the kitchen, complain about some piece she read in the Post -- in short, watch her best friend be herself. 

After dinner, when Josie bats Hope away from the dishes, sets them in the sink to soak before changing into pajamas and coming back to finish cleaning, Hope thinks she’s maybe escaped scot-free for the evening.

“So, about last night…”

Hope goes rigid. Her back as tight as the string of Ric’s crossbow as she stands in front of the fridge, tupperware in one hand, the door handle in the other. “Last night,” she says dumbly. 

“Yes.” 

Hope debates the merits of cramming herself into the fridge and closing the door on whatever this is about to be. Josie’s tone is neutral, giving nothing away. Hope assumed they would talk about...whatever that tension was, but she’d love it if she had a clue what to expect here. A smile, a frown, anything. 

She sucks in a deep breath. She’s faced down monsters, demons, and curses. She can handle an awkward chat with her best friend. She keeps her tone casual and says, “Things got a little…”

“Heated?” Hope turns from the fridge to see Josie smirking at her from where she’s leaning against the sink. Her arms are crossed over her chest, but she looks relaxed, not defensive. 

As much as she’d joked about Josie’s therapist last night Jean had clearly helped Josie make some good progress before she left her practice. Either that or Josie’s just better at handling awkward situations that Hope is. She can’t very well punch or magic her way out of this, can she? 

Unless… Could she magic this away? She can’t remember, but they might have the ingredients for a memory spell in the pantry...

No, don’t be silly, she chides herself, tossing the idea aside. She’d need another witch for that and she was not going to loop Lizzie into this debacle. Then she’d have to get someone else to help her wipe Lizzie’s memory and that just seemed like an unnecessary domino effect that only ended with Hope memory-wiping half the witch population of the city. She could handle one conversation _with her best friend_. She’s Hope fucking Mikaelson. She’s a grown woman. A grown woman who just so happened to let things get to her head last night.

But that was just one night. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Hope swallows away her nerves and slips into the persona of hers that in high school had Kaleb calling her the Ice Queen. “Yes,” she says much more evenly than she feels. She feels out of sorts with Josie still smirking at her from across the small kitchen.

“But, I mean, we had two bottles of wine,” Hope continues. “Aren’t best friends supposed to talk about sex with one another?” 

“Some do,” Josie concedes. 

“Exactly. Things just got a little extra because of the alcohol and the fact that we clearly both could use a good lay. Just some drunken sex-starved conversation. That’s all.” Hope’s smile feels about as convincing as a plastic mask, but she wills it to stay in place when she sees Josie look down at her house slippers.

“I guess that’s true,” Josie says slowly, not looking up. She huffs out a self-conscious laugh. “I do really need to get laid by someone other than myself.”

Her eyes flash up to Hope and for just a second, that dark edge gleams in Josie’s eyes and Hope’s breath freezes in her throat. 

It sounds… It sounds almost like Josie’s calling Hope out about last night. Either that or she’s really just speaking for herself, no veiled insinuations. Which, still, is a lot for Hope’s mind to handle given its current obsession with the gutter. 

_Had_ Josie touched herself last night like Hope had? 

Hope clears her throat. “See, why else would a little conversation affect us so strongly?”

“Right,” Josie says, still looking at Hope. “So that wasn’t just me, then?”

“Wasn’t just you what?” Hope all but squeaks.

Josie holds her gaze. “Who was affected by our conversation last night.”

“Oh,” Hope blinks. “No.” She shakes her head. “Wait, what are you asking exactly?”

Hope has to ask because it almost sounds like Josie’s hinting at…

“Oh my god, Hope, seriously?” Josie huffs, pushing off the sink.

The last thing Hope wants is for Josie to leave this conversation upset, so she steps into Josie’s path and stops her with a hand on her arm. “Wait, wait, slow down,” she says placatingly. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an asshole, I just don’t know exactly what you’re asking here.”

“I’m asking if you were turned on, Hope! Like I was! Jesus Christ,” Josie hisses looking at the ceiling, cheeks pink like they were this morning when they’d run into each other in the kitchen. And it’s exactly the kind of clarification Hope was asking for, but hearing it confirmed out loud from Josie’s own lips is...

“Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh_.” 

Josie’s cheeks are bright scarlet now and she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else than here. But Hope’s still holding her arm and she hasn’t pulled away, so Hope decides the least she can do is be honest. She clears her throat. 

“No, uh. You weren’t… You weren’t alone in that regard,” Hope mumbles out haltingly, immediately wanting to slap herself for sounding about as confident as a middle schooler who’s never talked about this kind of thing out loud before. 

Josie’s looking at her now though at least. The embarrassment seems to be melting from her face, too, so Hope decides that stumbling or not, she was right to tell Josie the truth. So right, she decides to say it again, just as blunt as Josie had. She’ll honor Josie’s bravery with some of her own. Josie deserves that.

“I was turned on by it, too.” She says, looking Josie in the eye. Josie’s lips part, but Hope keeps going. “But like we said! Wine plus dry spell -- of course that’s gonna lead to some horniness. That’s all.”

“RIght,” Josie says slowly, maintaining eye contact with Hope like she’s reading from a prompt and she wants to make sure she’s getting the lines right. “That’s all.”

“So. We’re ok then, right?” Hope can’t help but let her nerves bleed over into her voice. 

Josie immediately reacts to the undercurrent of worry, nodding her head and reaching for Hope’s hand in reassurance. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Yeah, we’re okay, Hope.”

“Good.” 

To seal the deal, Hope leans up on her tiptoes and kisses Josie’s cheek. It’s been a thing of theirs since college, something picked up from Caroline who no doubt picked it up while abroad. On family trips back to Mystic, Caroline would kiss each of the girls (Hope included) on the cheek hello and goodbye. 

Through the years, this has translated to greetings and goodnights for Hope and Josie in their own practice. But things had been tense when Hope came in and they had forgone the usual friendly kiss on the cheek hello. Hope doesn’t want to end the conversation like that, too. 

As if to further prove just how ok things are between them, she even lets her lips linger on Josie’s cheek for a beat longer than usual. As if to say, ‘see? if things weren’t ok with getting worked up together, would I be able to so casually nearly kiss you now?’

Or at least that’s what Hope is aiming to convey. But when her lips hit Josie’s cheek, Josie’s eyes slide closed, and her lips part just barely. Which is a little more of a reaction than Hope was expecting. And then when Hope pulls away and Josie opens her eyes Hope finds herself swallowing. Josie’s eyes are so dark. And Hope suddenly realizes just how close they’re standing. 

“Goodnight,” she croaks and steps back to let her roommate pass.

Josie stands there for a moment, wetting her lips, before returning the remark. “Goodnight,” she says and then Hope’s standing in the kitchen by herself for the second night in a row. 

It’s only when she goes to bury her face in her hands, cheeks inexplicably on fire, that she realizes the tupperware of gnocchi is still her hand. 

“Jesus Christ,” she breathes to herself. “Pull it together, Mikaelson.”

She puts the food away and heads to bed. Thirty minutes later, after Hope has brushed her teeth and gotten into bed with a book, she hears a noise coming from Josie’s room. 

Josie’s playing music again. Just like last night.

Hope slides down under her covers and covers her face with her pillow. 

It’s only after Josie turns off her music some ten minutes later, visits the bathroom, and then closes her bedroom door again that Hope slides a hand into her underwear and fucks herself thinking about what Josie may or may not have just been doing in her room.

xxxx

Two nights pass in this same manner. 

Hope and Josie dance around each other in the kitchen and living room. Hope’s eyes track every one of Josie’s moves. The way she rolls her lips into her mouth when she’s thinking of something else. The flash of her earrings when her hair is up off her neck. The way she watches Hope’s fingers on her laptop keyboard when she thinks Hope is too busy typing to notice. 

And every night, they say goodnight, lips lingering against cheeks, just shy of brushing the other’s mouth. Josie goes to her room and Hope goes to her own. Josie listens to music every night. No pattern in the duration or genre, just that it’s loud enough to block Hope from hearing... Whatever it is she's doing in there.

Hope, for her part, has no variation. Every night after the music stops and Josie goes to sleep, Hope tries and fails not to touch herself to the thought of Josie in the next room over. It’s fucking torture. Hope doesn’t know how to stop. It’s all but pavlovian now, to slink down under her sheets and imagine Josie writhing across the hall in her own sheets.

Something has to give. She’s worried she really might go blind at this rate. Or end up killing her assistant, Evan. Or Evan ending up poisoning her for being such a bitch at work. Either way, she doesn't see this ending well.

Then. Finally, blessedly, an opportunity presents itself in the form of Friday afternoon phone call from a harried Josie.

“That’s it, I’m done,” Josie announces as soon as Hope picks up. “No more dating, no more even thinking about dating, I will die a celibate old maid and that’s that.”

“Ok, what happened?”

Josie lets out a long sigh. “Do you remember Mark at work?”

“Uh… Was he the tall guy with the-”

“With the bowtie with menorahs printed on it at the holiday party, yes.”

“Yes, yes, ok I remember him now. Why?” Hope leans forward in her desk suddenly tense. “Did something happen with him?”

“Yes, but hold on wait, not like that!” 

Hope had been rising to put on her coat and storm over there if Josie needed her to, but Josie could probably tell that was exactly what she was doing. “Ok. Claws retracting. Sorry,” she drops back down into her chair. “Wait, I thought he was gay anyway.”

“He is. And so is his sister.”

“Oh interesting, ok.” 

“Yeah, so I kind of casually asked if he’d set her and I up and he got all offended and was like ‘my sister isn’t into open relationships’ and I was like ‘excuse me I thought she was single what are you talking about an open relationship’.” 

Hope stops typing. “Wait, what?“

“ _Yes_ ,” Josie says shrilly. “He thought you and I were a thing and he thought I was asking for his sister to join.”

“Well, you did bring me to your holiday party…”

“As a friend!" Then, like she's convincing Hope not Mark, she says, "I came to yours!”

“I know, I know," Hope laughs, tone placating. "I’m just saying maybe that’s why he got that impression?”

Josie sounds like she’s slumped on the portico outside her building. Her hair will no doubt smell like cigarette smoke and kebabs when she comes home if they don’t wrap this up quickly. “It doesn’t matter. He thinks we’re dating and now I’ll never get laid.”

That’s when it hits Hope. “Hang on.”

“What?”

“Maybe he’s onto something…”

“What," Josie snorts indelicately, "with the open relationship??”

“No, no..." Hope feels the beginning of a plan formulating. But she needs to think it over more before she says anything to Josie. "Never mind," she brushes Josie's interest off. "We can talk about it later.”

“Oh, no you don’t," Josie says much closer to the phone now. Hope can imagine the dip of her eyebrows and pinch of her mouth as she glares into space, phone pressed tight to her cheek liek she can intimidate Hope through the phone. "I know that tone. You think I can’t tell when someone is plotting something? Do you know who my sister is?”

“I’m fully aware," Hope says lightly. "But you need to get back to work and I need to figure out when my next showing is going to be. We can talk later. At home. In private.”

There's a long tense silence as Josie no doubt debates the merits of pushing or relenting while standing outside in the January cold. Finally: “Okay.”

“Okay. Oh! What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Mmm. I could pick up that soup you like from the diner over here?”

“Ooh, that sounds great actually. We haven't done taht in awhile. Would you mind? I can text you my order. ”

“Nah, you just want your regular, right?"

"Yeah, the soup with the--"

"With the dumplings, I know, I know. Oh, and, Hope.”

“Yes?”

“Whatever your solution over there is, it better not involve signing me up for JDate," Josie warns.

“I'll see you at home!”

“No Christian Mingle either!”

Hope hangs up laughing.

xxxx

“Ok, I brought the soup,” Josie says swirling into the apartment and dropping a paper bag of containers onto the counter in front of Hope. “Now tell me what you were talking about on the phone.”

Hope takes her time peering into the sack and carefully pulling out the soups and the fresh-baked little rye rolls she had forgotten to ask for but that Josie had of course remembered all the same. She’s been thinking about how to go about this all afternoon. In the removed safety of her office, she had thought she was prepared. But now as Josie is impatiently watching her, now separated by only the granite countertop not half of midtown, she’s having second thoughts.

But she’s already piqued Josie’s interest and she knows from experience you can’t very well hide something from Josie. Or, at least, Hope can’t. 

As if to prove this point, Josie reaches out and snatches the sack from Hope’s hands before she can finish digging for the enclosed plastic utensils and napkins. “Hope. Stop stalling.”

Hope wills herself to stop fidgeting. She had no problems facing down literal monsters in high school and even the occasional rogue magic ne'er-do-well that's popped up here in the city. She can pitch a simple proposal to her best friend. "So." Then again, this is much more personal than threats of physical harm. “I was thinking.”

“Yes. I’m aware.” Josie makes an impatient hand motion. “You said as much on the phone. Three hours ago.”

Which is true. Hope needs to woman up. “Ok.” Hope sits up straight and presses her palms flat onto the countertop. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but we are two busy, highly independent women, correct?”

Josie narrows her eyes. “Are you trying to sell me a timeshare? What are you talking about?”

“You’re trying for that promotion and the gallery is ramping up for a new season of shows and I for one, would like to stop wasting my time trawling dating apps and going on dates that don’t even pan out. So," she takes a deep breath. "What if instead of outsourcing, we cut out the middlemen?"

“What does..." Josie's face screws up adorably in confusion. "What are you even proposing?”

“I’m proposing… a mutually beneficial arrangement.” 

“Oh my god. Hope! In English! Please! “ Josie throws her hands in the air. 

Oh, hell. She might as well just rip off the bandaid. This beating around the bush is only stressing her out more. Hope goes for broke and throws her plan out onto the table. “What if we hooked up?”

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

When Josie just looks at her, lip caught between her teeth, Hope starts devising an exit strategy. “Or, not! Option B is that we eat our soup and pretend I ever suggested this!” 

Hope focuses on popping the soup container closest to her. It’s Josie’s vegetable minestrone. She slides it towards Josie. Josie takes the soup but then grabs Hope’s hand before it can retreat a back across the countertop. 

“How beneficial are we talking here?”

“Oh,” Hope startles. Looks at Josie more closely and recognizes that gleam in her eyes. “Um.”

“When you say ‘hook up,’ what exactly do you mean? Like making out when we’re lonely and drunk or…”

Hope swallows. “That. And…” She looks at Josie’s brown eyes boring into her own. “Sex, too. If we were, uh, both so inclined.” 

“I see.” Josie stares at her for a minute longer before she allows a smirk to tug at the corner of her mouth. “I’d prefer to see a cost-benefit analysis before firmly agreeing to anything.”

Josie’s hand is inching up Hope’s arm, slowly pulling her closer. Hope allows herself to be brought closer. Even though it was Hope’s idea she didn’t actually allow herself to get her hopes up. Now that Josie’s agreeing she’s left feeling a little dizzy. “How thorough of you.”

“You have no idea…” Josie’s eyes drop to Hope’s lips and Hope’s heart slams into her chest. 

“I mean,” Hope wets her lips and smirks when she watches Josie’s eyes follow the movement. Now that they're on the same page it's easier to relax into the easy banter she's used to. And it's obvious they're on the same page based on a variety of physical signals Josie is giving Hope at the moment. Her brain feels like it's swimming in arousal and they haven't even kissed yet. “I could go run the numbers, compile a few spreadsheets, maybe even throw in a graph or two…”

“Or.”

“Or we could just...drop the business analogy and we could do some of those things we discussed doing on the couch Monday night.” Josie’s so close Hope can count her eyelashes. 

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

“To be clear for consent purposes: I’m going to kiss you right now.”

“To be clear: I’ve been waiting for that.”

xxxx

“Wait, wait, wait,” Josie stops Hope from going any lower with a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Hope says quickly, already pulling back from the half-naked woman beneath her, giving her space. “Do you not want…?” She gestures between her mouth and Josie’s unzipped slacks.

“I do,” Josie says. “ _Fuck_ , I do. I just...” 

Hope lays down on her side next to Josie, giving the woman a little bit of breathing room as Hope waits for her to explain. She keeps one hand on Josie’s waist, stroking the soft skin above her hip bone soothingly. 

Josie looks up at the ceiling and groans. 

Hope leans forward and kisses her shoulder. “You just what, Jo?” She asks encouragingly before scraping her teeth over the rounded joint. 

“I just- I just wasn’t exactly prepared for all of _this_ to happen today,” Josie says from behind the hands covering her face.

“Oh, honey. _None_ of this has to happen today,” Hope says quickly. This time, the kiss she presses to Josie’s shoulder isn’t meant to entice, just show support. “We can take this slow. Or take it absolutely nowhere; just put our clothes back on and go out to the living room and watch a movie or something. Our soup is still on the counter, anyway.”

“No, no, fuck, I’m not explaining myself. Sorry." Josie drops her hands and looks with panic at Hope at the suggestion of that last option. Hope had lifted up on her elbow to give Josie more breathing room, but Josie grabs her quickly to keep her from moving away any further. "I do want this, all of this. Very much actually. I just, uh- I just didn’t like… physically prepare for it.”

She blinks at her best friend beneath her. Does Josie need a minute to like, meditate or something? What does that even mean? Hope is thoroughly confused. 

“You know…” Josie tries, cheeks flushing. “Like… Prepare _down there_.” She tilts her chin down to her underwear pointedly, desperately trying to get Hope to understand.

“Oh my god.” Hope leans back. “Josie,” she laughs, shakes her head. "I don’t care about that.”

“Well _I_ care,” Josie grumbles, obviously not pleased with Hope’s flippant attitude. “Usually it’s polite to tidy things up the first time you have a guest over.”

And it’s so adorable, the pout, the absurdly cutesy analogy, Hope can’t help the grin that spreads across her lips. Jesus Christ, she loves her best friend. She smiles down at her, utterly charmed. “What about your date the other night?”

“What about it?”

“You didn’t, uh, tend the shrubbery in preparation?”

“Oh.” Josie shakes her head. “No, definitely not. It was only the second date and he really wasn’t that cute. So.”

“So you weren’t planning on shagging him?”

“Did you recently watch Austin Powers, what American says that?”

“The one who is currently hoping to shag you.”

Josie covers her face with her hands and groans. “Oh my god, you are lucky you’re so hot, or else my ovaries would have just withered away at that, I think.”

Hope laughs before covering Josie’s hands with her own and pulling them down so they can make eye contact. “Look, we can totally stop if you don’t feel comfortable. No problem, no hard feelings. But, Josie.” Hope widens her eyes a little to show the seriousness. “Babe. Trust me when I say that doesn’t bother me. It could look like a forgotten highway median down there down there and I would not give two shits.”

“It’s not _forgotten,_ ok, you’re not going to need a machete and a compass,” Josie huffs indignantly. “But fine. If you’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m so sure.” Hope let’s her smile grow devious, “Now can I please go down on you? I've been able to smell how wet you were getting since we started talking about this in the kitchen and it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Jesus, Hope,” Josie inhales sharply. “You can-“

“Tribrid senses, remember?” Hope is quick to explain, not wanting to get bogged down in any of the particulars when she can practically taste Josie in the air already. “Now may I?”

“Fuck, ok, yeah, _yes_ ,” Josie nods vigorously, and then she’s helping Hope slip her panties off and Hope’s back to working her way down Josie’s lithe body.

Hope isn’t one to do things by halves. She eats Josie out until her jaw starts popping. 

It's apparently very effective. Josie is so hoarse from moaning, Hope has to go and get Josie water from the kitchen.

“Jesus,” Josie says, still winded but obviously impressed, hand on Hope’s cheek so she can feel the click of the joint against her palm. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Hope replied truthfully. “But, even if it did, it would have been worth it.”

Josie pulls her down into a kiss and doesn’t let up even as she flips them and fucks Hope into the mattress. Hope doesn't even manage to get her pants off all the way before Josie's slipping fingers into her.

Hope’s never been so happy for her supernaturally sped up recovery ability. Josie keeps kissing her the entire time and Hope doesn’t feel so much as a twinge of soreness in her tongue or jaw as she fights to keep up with the wild kiss.

What she does feel though is Josie’s fingers pumping in and out of her with surprising speed and precision. She had kind of assumed Josie, sweet, girl next door Josie would be all soft touches and caresses. Instead, she’s pushing in another finger, stretching Hope deliciously as the whole bed shakes. 

“Fuck, Jo,” Hope moans brokenly against her lips. Her hips slam up to meet each of Josie’s movements. 

The headboard has started to knock against the wall and Hope knows it’s going to leave a mark in the plaster, but she really can’t fucking care about that. “Har-harder. Fuck- Jesus, just like that, uh-huh.” 

Her hands scrabble across Josie’s sweat-slicked back. Palm pressing into the dip between her delicate shoulders, as she angles her hips up into Josie's hand and comes hard. 

Hope’s gasping for breath and Josie still hasn’t pulled away from the kiss or from between her legs. Instead, she looks at Hope through her lashes, and when she speaks, her voice is darker than the pits of Malivore. “Can you go again?”

And Jesus, yeah, with Josie looking at her like that she definitely can. Because Hope may the one who suggested this and Hope may be the mishmash of witch, vampire, and wolf, but Josie's the one looking down at her like she wants to devour her and has a laundry list of ways in which to do it.

Hope feels herself throb in response. Watches as Josie's eyelids flutter as she feels it, too.

"Yes, please," Hope barely has time to say before Josie descends on her and wow, yes, this is way better than anything that's ever come out of a dating app.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to that most glorious of glorious tags: plot what plot/porn without plot

Hope doesn’t know if it’s due to their collective dry spells or what, but now that it’s an option, they start fucking like rabbits.

It’d be a little shocking if it wasn’t so damn unexpectedly hot.

That weekend, Josie kneels between her thighs and eats her out at the kitchen table during breakfast. Hope pulls her up into her lap, makes Josie ride her fingers while she sucks a hickey low on her throat. 

They don’t even manage to finish taking off their clothes. They come to from their haze to find both of them still in ratty sleep tees, their pajama bottoms kicked off somewhere under the table, and Hope’s panties forgotten around one ankle.

The workweek is no different.

Monday night starts off late, both of them exhausted from work and watching some kitschy home improvement show on their miserable excuse of a couch. They’re sprawled across the cushions in as comfortable positions as they can be. Hope, ever the selfless heroine, volunteers to be in the back and lean against the unforgiving arm. Josie’s back is against Hope’s front, a position they’ve laid in on the couch countless times and never had a problem with. 

Hope’s so used to laying like this she doesn’t even think twice about absently running her fingers up and down Josie’s forearm while the couple on tv waffles between a subway tile backsplash and a bright mosaic pattern. 

“Oh, that’s way too busy, who in their right mind is going to want to look at that every time they use the kitchen sink?”

Rather than answer, Josie turns in her arms and kisses Hope just under her ear. Hope sucks in a breath hard at the unexpected action.

“I take it, you’re done watching this?” She asks, voice strained when Josie adds a little teeth to what she’s doing. 

“I haven’t been watching since you started tickle-scratching my arm.”

“You could have told me to stop.”

“I didn’t want you to.” Josie tugs the collar of Hope’s shirt down enough to kiss her collarbone and Hope can’t stop her hips from instinctively responding. “Do you want me to stop _this_?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Hope suspects Josie is trying to get her back for the mark she accidentally left on her neck the other morning. Her tribrid healing means that’s all but impossible, but Hope’s more than happy to let her roommate try to her heart’s content. Josie has managed the perfect balance between kissing and biting without leaving her feeling like she’s being bathed in slobber. Who is Hope to say no to that?

Hope slides her hand into the back of Josie’s ponytail and urges her closer until Josie rearranges herself so she’s sitting in her lap, knees bracketing Hope’s squirming hips. Josie had started out slowly, cataloging the places on Hope’s neck that make her squirm against the hideous crushed velvet of the upholstery. But as her grip on Josie’s hair tightens and Josie’s intensity ratchets up, Hope finds herself asking Josie to have mercy on her and just _touch her already_.

That time, they leave their clothes on intentionally. As much as they may hate this couch, Hope doesn’t want to think about how difficult it would be to clean. So Hope’s sweatpants stay on as Josie slides her hand into her panties. 

The angle is a little tough, the waistband of Hope’s pants constricting Josie’s movements as it bites into her wrist. Josie has to sit back on Hope’s thighs, her free hand on the back of the couch to keep from falling off as Hope bucks up into her palm. Hope is gripping the front of Josie’s shirt so tightly she’s worried she’s going to accidentally rip it. 

It would be easier to just go to one of their beds. But getting up and relocating seems like the worst idea in the world because then Josie would have to pause what she’s currently doing between Hope’s legs. 

So they don’t. Hope pulls her closer, a hand on Josie’s hip, no doubt making the angle all the more difficult. Not that Josie complains. Merely adjusts. Urges Hope on with words whispered hotly against the shell of her ear. Her tongue comes out every once in a while to tease the piercings along her lobe and Hope’s hips cant up into Josie’s fingers, breath as uneven as her own jerky movements. 

She doesn’t even comprehend what her friend is saying, just the feel of her surprisingly ragged breath. It’s obvious Hope isn’t the only one enjoying herself. The sensations of Josie inside of her and all around her push Hope over the edge. As she finishes, Josie mouths at the skin below Hope’s ear before sitting back to review her work.

When she pouts, inevitably disappointed by the lack of mark, Hope has to laugh breathlessly, “I warned you.”

“Maybe your chest is easier to mark.”

Hope knows it isn’t but she certainly isn’t going to say that. Instead, she leans forward and takes off her top. “Only one way to find out.”

It’s crazy. Hope didn’t even realize how horny she was until she got to experience Josie pressing insistently against her. Hope is a little bit addicted.

xxxx

She’s sure that a part of what makes it so good is her and Josie’s years of friendship. By now, they’re excellent at communicating and even better at reading each other. Knowing the other’s tells translates well to their new activities.

Whether it’s the twist of Josie’s lips when she’s thinking of something dirty or the sharp inhale when Hope gets it just right, right there, just like that. They just always seem to be on the same page. Or at least willing to _get_ on the same page.

Josie comes back from a run, sweaty and flushed despite the late winter chill. She looks obscenely attractive, hair up, showcasing her neck, and the place right beneath her jaw that Hope now knows she likes to have kissed. 

Hope is thinking about doing just that. Pressing her lips to the flushed, soft skin, snaking her tongue out to taste the salt, when Josie grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and catches Hope’s stare over the kitchen table. Josie grins.

“Wanna shower with me?”

“Shower sex always kind of freaks me out,” Hope answers, not looking away from the graceful column of Josie’s neck. The hickey seems to be healing nicely; only a slight smudge peaks out from the collar of her hoodie. Hope wonders if she could get away with leaving another. “It just seems like a slip and fall accident waiting to happen.”

Josie laughs, the sound finally drawing Hope’s eyes up to her friend's face. “How do you feel about bathtub sex?”

“Well I did just clean the bathroom…” she trails off as Josie strips off her hoodie and throws it in the direction of the washing machine. Josie, as luck would have it, is not wearing a shirt underneath. How she’s still tan in the middle of January, Hope will never know. 

“Great,” Josie says, shimmying out of her leggings. She’s reaching for her sports bra, already on the way to the bathroom, before she explains further, “I’ll get the water running.”

Hope’s fingers are already slipping between Josie’s impossibly long legs before the tub even finishes filling up.

xxxx

Josie, it turns out, is a multifaceted lover. Sometimes she’s soft and reverent in the way she touches Hope. Monday night on the couch was a good example of what Hope thought being touched by Josie would be like when she allowed herself to think about it. 

But more often than not, Josie fucks Hope as if she dreams of owning her. Like she wants to climb inside Hope’s skin and possess her. Hope just might let her if she continues to make her feel this good in the process. 

Hope’s always preferred things a little rough. Whether that’s another side effect of her wolf-ness or just her considerable power in general, she loves when things get a little aggressive, shading toward animal wildness. Don’t get her wrong, she appreciates being cherished as much as the next person, but there’s something satisfying about breaking it all down to instincts. 

Even more so when the one breaking her down is Josie, whose default expression is one of sweet innocence. That dichotomy between expected and reality is so thrilling. Hope’s never enjoyed being proven wrong more in her life. 

Tonight is no exception to that. 

“I think you’d probably kill me if you ever used a strap-on,” Hope says contemplatively after they finish. 

Josie is pulling her sleep shorts back on and Hope is thinking about the way Josie had thrown her hips into her particularly brutal thrusts a few moments ago. Powered her fingers that much deeper and harder inside of her.

Hope shivers at the memory, her cunt giving an answering pulse, despite being bone tired.

Josie looks up, pauses in getting dressed, shirt halfway up her arms. “We could test that.” 

There’s that pulse again. A little more insistent this time. 

“You,” Hope finds she has to clear her throat before she can finish her question. “You have one?”

“Duh.”

Hope finds the idea absurdly hot. Josie has a strap-on. The girl who in high school struggled with articulating her needs and asking for what she wants has a strap-on that she presumably knows how to use and use well.

Hope’s mind explodes with the possibilities. For how long? How often does she use it? Does Josie have one because she likes to fuck with it or be fucked by it? 

Hope has admittedly very limited experience with the sex toy. Most of the times in the past when she has hooked up with girls, they were fairly tame affairs. They never dated long enough to get bored with just hands and mouths. 

Usually, if she’s craving that kind of penetration a dude will do just fine. But now…

She thinks about Josie’s hips pressed tight and hot and slick to her own, both of her hands free to do other things, and feels her body warm, desire ramping back up. 

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Josie asks, eyes dark and teasing as the smirk on her lips. 

Hope nods. “Yeah,” she answers hoarsely. 

Josie breaks eye contact to look at the clock on Josie’s dresser. Hope turns her head to see the time too and is surprised to find a single digit in the hour slot. 

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” She asks slowly.

“Does it matter?” Josie’s already letting the shirt slide down off her arms, stepping back to the bed where Hope’s heart is steadily picking up speed.

Hope somehow digs up some long-buried self-control and holds out a hand halting her roommate in her tracks. “Yes,” Hope says. “It does matter. You’re never going to get that promotion if you’re dead on your feet in the office.”

“Ugh, fine.” Josie pulls her shirt back on and even though it’s what Hope just lobbied for and does believe is the right move, she’s still sad to see all of that skin disappear. 

Josie leans over Hope on the bed, her hands resting on the side of the mattress as she places a single kiss on Hope’s still bare shoulder. 

“But tomorrow after work we are starting early on that hypothesis of yours.”

xxxx

True to her word, the next night, not ten minutes after Hope gets home, Josie has her on her back, naked, and pulling Josie up onto the bed as soon as she has the harness adjusted. Screw dinner and regular pleasantries. Judging by her impatience, Josie has clearly been thinking about this all day just like Hope has been. 

Hope barely requires any warming up. The anticipation just might kill her. Her whole body is strung tight, tuned for Josie’s touch. She’s been thinking of nothing else but this all day -- much to the detriment of her work productivity -- and she’s wet and more than ready for more than just Josie’s fingers. She spreads her legs further and pumps her hips up into Josie to get the point across. 

Josie pulls back from the kiss to look her in the eye. “Yeah?”

_“Yes.”_ If Josie waits any longer she’s going to flip them over and take matters into her own hands. Literally. Patience is so hard when there’s a pretty girl on top of you, moving against you with intent. An intent to tease, apparently. Josie’s keeping her hips held back just enough to avoid any real friction, but the brush of firm silicone against her thigh keeps her plenty aware of just what she is missing. Hope can feel how wet she is, already dripping down her thighs.

Josie withdraws her fingers and Hope’s cunt feels painfully empty as it clenches around nothing. She’s about two seconds away from begging Josie to please just fuck her when she realizes the reason Josie pulled away was just to grab the bottle of lube she dropped next to them. 

Hope sits up on her elbows. “Do you want me to-”

Josie looks at her through her eyelashes and leans forward to kiss her. “If you want,” she says and Hope’s hand joins hers in lubing up the toy strapped to Josie's hips, their hands working in tandem to rub up and down up and down while Josie’s tongue slides across Hope’s.

If she weren’t so turned on already, Hope would probably get lost in the kiss. Josie's tongue is plenty talented and she's taking her time, kissing Hope firmly and languidly.

But Hope is on a mission. The smell of their arousal is thick in the air. Teasing Hope up higher. She slips her slick fingers down to rub against Josie's skin, just under where the six inches of silicone is hooked. Josie's hips jump in response, Hope's fingers just barely brushing above her clit.

_Good._

Hope would prefer to not be the only one desperate to get things moving along. Josie promised her something and Hope will be damned if she doesn’t hold her to it. She tightens her hold on the strap and tugs Josie closer between her thighs. 

Josie smirks against her lips. “Impatient much?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” 

Thankfully, at her growl response, Josie takes pity on her and lines up the strap. Hope is caught between wanting to watch Josie slide it inside of her and knowing she needs to lie back. Josie makes the decision for her, pushing her shoulder back into the pillow, as she pushes in slowly. 

Hope lets out a harsh exhale at the feeling of the dildo fully inserted. 

“Okay?” Josie checks at the sound.

All Hope can do is nod. Josie hasn’t even done anything yet and Hope’s muscles are already throbbing deep inside of her appreciatively. Hope's never been much for penetration, but fuck if this doesn’t feel good: Josie leaning over her, her hair falling in a curtain around them, trailing across her taut nipples, hips pressed together and Hope feeling deliciously full. 

They readjust, Hope bending her knees and lifting her hips to better suit the connection, then Josie is rubbing her hip and pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw and asking for permission to start. 

“Yeah,” Hope nods. And then in a show of bravado to make up for how shaky she already sounds when they’ve only just started, she adds, “Show me whatcha got, Saltzman,” much more cockily, tilting her hips purposefully into Josie and changing the angle of the strap inside her enough to cause her pulse to pick up. She can feel it pounding between her legs as well as in her ears. 

She registers the smirk against her throat a half a second before Josie does just that. She starts with even, steady strokes, all the way out and then halfway in before Hope’s squirming and whining for more. 

That’s when Josie stops playing with Hope and starts _fucking_ her. 

“Oh shit,” Hope manages, her back bowing up as Josie slams into her all the way. Hope can feel the pleasure pulsing all the way down to her toes, curling into the sheets. 

She pulls Josie closer, _needs_ her closer, keeps their bodies pressed together even if it doesn’t allow for the same long strokes. Wraps her legs around Josie’s slim hips to feel her fevered body moving against hers. Their breasts are rubbing together, little shocks zipping along Hope’s spine even if Josie isn’t so much fucking her just letting Hope grind down against her.

Josie allows it for a bit longer, lets Hope move against her, before taking back control. “Let me fuck your like you need,” she says against Hope’s ear, breathe coming out in hot pants gusting through the damp hair at Hope’s neck as she nips at the skin there. “Let me take care of you, babe.”

“Yes, yes, okay, okay.” Hope can’t get the words out fast enough. She’s been on edge all day and now -- Josie naked and slick on top of her, kissing her hard and messy and promising her relief -- she feels a little crazy. She's pretty sure this constitutes as babbling or begging or maybe both. She doesn't care. She just might go mad if she doesn’t cum in the next 15-30 seconds. “Please, Jo, _please_.”

Josie lays one last kiss to the flushed skin of Hope’s neck before she wraps an arm under her already arching back and tugs Hope to the edge of the bed. She withdraws just long enough to place a pillow under Hope’s ass. Hope whimpers in frustration at the loss. But then Josie's back, the silicone toy between her legs _merciless,_ as she braces her feet flat on the ground and fucks into Hope with her whole body. 

The new angle proves to be just right. The tip of the toy rubbing against the front of Hope’s inner walls on every thrust. She holds Hope’s knees open and fucks her like it’s her God-ordained right to do so. 

Hope keeps one hand fisted in the sheets while she brings the other between her legs to touch her clit.

“God, so sexy,” Josie mutters at the sight and redoubles her efforts. “Just like that, Hope. So good, babe.”

When Hope comes not two seconds later, gasping and juddering into Josie, she jackknifes up, all but jerking the dildo out from between her legs with her abrupt and wild movement. 

It’s only thanks to Josie’s surprisingly fast reflexes that she doesn’t actually jerk out of the spasming channel of muscle, potentially hurting Hope in the process. Josie keeps her steady, both hands on her waist, fingers stroking the soft skin as she comes down. Only after her cunt has calmed down does she pull out. She shivers at the feel.

Hope lets her leg dangle off the side of the bed as she catches her breath, too spent to care about where her limbs are. “Christ,” she says dumbly, but with feeling.

“So,” Josie asks smugly. “What did you think?”

“I think…” Hope is momentarily distracted from giving her review by Josie picking up the hand Hope had just been touching herself with and licking along the middle and index fingers. She moans. “I think I wanna try that on you.”

Josie’s eyes flash. “Okay.” Then she’s shimmying out of the harness. 

But before she can leave to go wash off the dildo, Hope sits up and kisses the bruises just beginning to form above Josie’s hip bones where she’d rammed into Hope’s over and over and over again. 

“Does it hurt?” Hope asks as she rubs a thumb lightly over one of the burgeoning marks, unconsciously repeating the same question Josie asked her that first night. 

Beneath her hand, Josie shivers. “A little. But it’s worth it.”

Hope kisses the bruise one last time before straightening to kiss Josie’s chin. “Hurry up and go clean that thing. I wanna know if fucking a pretty girl is everything boys crack it up to be.”

She swats Josie on the ass to get her going. Josie laughs freely before tilting her face down to kiss Hope on the mouth and say, “It definitely is.”

xxxx

The strap-on reveal ends up not being the only surprise sex toy reveal. It turns out there’s plenty of things for them to explore with each other. 

Hope is at the little grocery store down the street, perusing the coffee selection when a voice behind her says some horrible pick up line. She whirls around, hex already half-formed on her lips before she realized the person tipsily leaning into her personal space is Josie. 

“Jesus, Jo,” Hope presses a hand to her pounding heart. “You should know better than to just sneak up on a person like that. Especially one who knows a spell to turn your eyeballs inside out.”

Josie pouts. “What if I said you’re worth the risk?” 

Hope snorts out a laugh. “I would say that it’s no wonder you’ve had shit luck at dating. These lines are horrible!”

“They are not!” Josie says indignantly, stamping her foot a little for emphasis. “Come on, the caffeine one about keeping you up all night was pretty good, you have to admit.” When Hope just shakes her head, grinning, Josie whines, “You’re just way prettier than the people I usually use them on. It’s your fault -- You’ve thrown me off my groove.”

“Uh-huh,” Hope smiles fondly. “What are you even doing here? I thought you were having dinner with Lizzie.”

“I was, but then I missed you so I came home early, and then I saw your fine ass through the window as I was walking by and, voila, kismet.” Josie delivers with a flourish. She manages to say the whole thing in one long run on, with minimal slurring. When she starts to list to one side, she covers by redirecting and leaning further into Hope’s space.

Hope catches her, hand on her waist. “Alright, I think I need to get you home.” She abandons the quest for a new coffee for them to try and turns to walk them up the aisle to the checkout. 

Before she can take a step, though, Josie steps closer, crowding her back against the container of yirgacheffe. The whole beans rattle as they bump into them. “I was hoping you’d say that,” Josie says with a smirk.

“Jesus, Jo,” Hope says, surprised by the sudden heat in her friend’s words, “not like that.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want me to use the vibrator that you keep locked up somewhere in your room on you when we get home?”

“I- You- How do you know about that?”

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are, babe,” Josie's eyes are dark and deep and full of plans and Hope is suddenly grateful for the plastic container at her back. Even if it is trapping her in place, it’s at least keeping her upright. “Why do you think I put on music when I do that?” 

Hope swallows hard. So. That’s one suspicion confirmed. Great. 

“Not that I’m complaining, of course,” Josie continues, hands running along the lapels of Josie’s coat, thumbs dipping beneath the fabric to brush against Hope’s chest and stomach over her shirt. “It used to drive me crazy imagining you using that on yourself.” 

“Oh my god. Josie,” Hope chokes out, cheeks on fire. “We are in _public_.” 

Josie hums. “I know. What a shame. Otherwise, I’d already be feeling how wet you just got thinking about me thinking about you fucking yourself. Instead, I’m just thinking about it. Hah, it’s like inception.”

Hope exhales hard. “That’s it, I’m getting you home.”

“Yay!” Josie claps excitedly before kissing Hope on the cheek.

Hope abandons the half-full basket of groceries on the ground and drags Josie home to their apartment. Josie has to go out and get coffee for them the next morning, but they both agree it’s worth it. 

xxxx

If Hope were to stop and think about the recent turn of events (which, admittedly, she does far too frequently during business hours) Josie’s behavior isn’t all that surprising. Hope knows firsthand just how dark Josie’s dark is. 

Hope would be lying if she said she wasn’t fascinated by her best friend’s inner make-up. Ever since Josie’s walk on the dark side in high school, she’s been less submissive. Her topping Hope has been a revelation, but one that makes more sense in the context of how far Josie has come since her days of meekness. It turns out, some of the lessons Josie learned while being overcome with dark magic had healthy applications once she removed the homicidal bent. 

Then, of course, there’s everything that’s happened since she and Lizzie bypassed The Merge. In college, Josie had been borderline reckless, drunk off the fact her future no longer ended at twenty-two. Hope could hardly blame her. Figuring out a way around killing or being killed by her twin would probably do that to a person. 

Perhaps it was only natural that the impulsivity and headless hedonism came to a head the weekend of Josie and Lizzie’s 22nd birthday. Hope still doesn’t know all the details of what happened that long weekend. But as Josie catches her breath, naked and flushed in bed next to Hope, she can see the one physical holdover from the weekend: Josie’s Gemini tattoo. It feels like a memory of another lifetime -- Josie’s pre-twenty-two-self.

But there’s the reminder right in front of Hope, black and permanent, tucked high on the otherwise unblemished skin of her friend’s ribs. 

Lizzie has a matching one. On her shoulder blade, Lizzie’s had been just visible over the top of her strapless wedding dress. Hope has never asked what Josie and Lizzie got up to while they were away. Josie has never volunteered either. They’ve given a lot to each other through the years: Hope and Josie, and even Lizzie. Hope is fine with letting the twins have this for themselves. 

What Hope has instead are her own anxious memories of that weekend. Carrying Josie’s bag down to the street where Lizzie sat waiting in a taxi. Saluting Lizzie through the open rear window. Hugging Josie hard on the curb. Josie kissing her cheek and squeezing her hand before sliding into the backseat and disappearing for the next five long nerve-wracking days. 

When Josie showed back up, she had a killer hangover, this tattoo on her ribs, and a weight lifted off her shoulders. Hope had stood up from the couch and stared at her roommate as if she’d just come home from the war. 

Intellectually, Hope knew Josie would be coming back after her birthday. But she had lived in fear for so long of losing the other girl to the Merge. A fear she knew Josie carried tight in her chest, too. When Josie showed back up, three days after turning twenty-two, still one-half of a set, and most importantly, still alive, and hugged Hope hard enough to bruise both their ribs, Hope had cried.

Even with the tears and the hangover, Josie seemed lighter. Whatever happened that weekend, Josie seems to have gotten the self-destructive patterns out of her system. She still lets loose these days, but it's thankfully more in line with the regular over-stressed, under-paid mid-twenties crowd.

Hope doesn’t really care which version of Josie it ends up being when they come together like this, whether her friend is soft and sweet or rough and rabid taking what she wants from Hope’s body. All that matters to Hope is that Josie is here, breathing and alive and next to her.

Hope has spent years making do with assuaging her fears over Josie's existence with a hand reaching out for Josie's wrist or a hug or a glance over to make sure her friend is really still there. The fact she can do this, press her naked body fully against Josie and look into her brown eyes, really feel that she's there- It makes her dizzy.

These thoughts are probably too maudlin thought to share out loud here and now. Josie may be Hope's best friend, but even in her post-orgasm dopamine-drowned state, Hope knows this is just sex. She'll save the sappiness over Josie being alive for another time when they aren't naked and still sweaty from sex.

So, instead, Hope reaches out and traces the black lines beside Josie's breast. She revels in the heat of Josie's skin, the way she shivers at Hope's touch. Josie turns to her. The covers are slung low across her hips, her torso bare and available to Hope's roving, appreciative gaze. Josie's nipples are still stiff at attention, from either Hope's touch or the chill in the air.

Hope moves without thinking, draping her body over Josie's. Josie may have just come, but there's no reason Hope can't try and make it happen again. Not when Josie's guiding Hope's mouth down to her own, maneuvering so their thighs slot together in a hot, damp press of skin. 

She reaches down between their bodies and feels Josie's hips grind up into her, feels her wet and hot and waiting for her. A whimper gets caught high in Josie's throat and then Hope is slipping inside of her and any thought other than Josie here beneath her right now goes flying out the goddamn window. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is fun, i'm having fun, are you guys having fun?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so. uh. i really underestimated the level of commitment some of y'all had/have to personal preconceived notions of these fictional characters' fictional sex lives. lmao. wooooo boy some of y'all did not like our girl josie reclaiming authority and topping!
> 
> to which I must say: i get it. we all have our preferences! in this house we love and support all (healthy) dynamics!
> 
> in this particular story, sometimes Josie tops, sometimes Hope tops, sometimes they both top (yay, vers rights!), sometimes no one tops (yay for nonsexual, domestic intimacy!). if that's not your jam, i wish you the happiest of reading elsewhere, my friend!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update is dedicated to the beautiful gif-set makers on tumblr. without you, i may actually have to watch the 2020-level of nonsense that j*lie pl*c insist on pushing out.
> 
> as always, no beta -- we die like josie's love interests (cute but criminally underutilized and overhyped)

Hope would like to point out, for the record, that it’s not all sex all the time for them. Yes, most evenings they spend together do end with one if not both of them coming. But it’s not a _guaranteed_ thing. And it’s certainly not an expectation. 

They can spend time together like the best friends they are. No funny business, just two gals being pals. Tonight is a prime example of that.

Hope walks into the apartment to find Josie all-out _sobbing_ on the couch. 

“Holy shit,” Hope drops her purse to the ground and rushes to her friend. “Josie. What is it? Are you okay? Did something happen at work?”

“No,” Josie manages to burble out after a few hiccuping sobs. She tries to say something and then just gives up and gestures at the television.

Hope looks at the tv screen, realization suddenly dawning. “Babe. Did you watch Fox and the Hound again?”

“Yes!” Josie wails, burying her face in Hope’s shoulder. “Who decided it was a good idea to put this movie on Disney +?!”

Now that she’s no longer scared someone has died, Hope chuckles and wraps an arm around Josie. Settling further into the couch, she says. “I thought we decided you weren’t going to watch that movie alone anymore?”

“I can’t help it. It _called_ to me.”

“Did you start today?”

Josie sniffles. “Maybe.”

Hope laughs again and kisses Josie’s hair.

“I’ll go get the dark chocolate,” she says, extracting herself from the couch and Josie’s grip.

“And then we can watch it again?”

“And then we can watch it again,” Hope agrees, picking up her purse and closing and locking the door. 

xxxx

Hope doesn’t cry as hard as she usually does when the old woman leaves Tod in the clearing, but that’s only because Josie’s fallen asleep on her chest by that point and she can’t risk waking her up. She presses her cheek to the top of Josie’s head, lets her hair soak up her silent tears, and mentally curses Walt Disney for doing this to them. Bambi has nothing on this heart-breaking shit. 

When the movie ends she carries Josie to bed. Because as much as she loves Josie, she is not spending the night on this couch, no matter how comfy her best friend looks right now.

“Is it over?” Josie asks sleepily as she tucks her in.

“Yeah.”

  
“Good.” Josie snuggles into her pillow. “Tomorrow, I’m canceling that goddamned subscription.”

Hope laughs on her way out the door. “Good idea, babe.”

xxxx

The next night there are thankfully fewer tears when Hope gets home. The television is off, but Josie is curled up on the couch.

“Hey,” Hope says from the door. She has time to actually set down her purse and take off her coat tonight. “How ya feelin’?”

There’s a noncommittal groan from the couch. 

Hope honestly doesn’t know how Josie is even laying like that. It can’t be comfortable. She knows the second day of Josie’s cycle is usually the worst, but still. Those cushions cannot be helping matters. 

“There are soup dumplings in the fridge,” Josie grunts.

“Did you already eat?”

“No.”

“Not hungry?”

“Blrrgh.”

Hope pulls the still warm containers from the fridge and sets them on the counter. Josie must not have gotten home too much earlier than her. She rustles around in the cabinets. “Do you want tea?”

There’s a contemplative silence and then, “Urgh. No, thank you.”

Hope closes the cabinets and leans over the counter to look at Josie still sprawled on the couch. “Do you want me to start a bath for you?”

Josie removes the pillow from her face and shoots her a hopeful look. 

Hope laughs. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” She’s already moving to the bathroom.

xxxx

An hour or so later, when Josie exits the bathroom, wrapped in her favorite comfy robe (different than her favorite sultry one), skin still warm and smelling of one of those fancy, inscrutably named bath bombs she loves so much, she presses Hope into the wall and kisses her square on the mouth.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” she says into Hope’s mouth.

“No need to thank me,” Hope says a little breathlessly. She’s caught her off guard by this sudden turn of events to be honest. Plus Josie has moved on to her throat, is now nosing the collar of her blouse aside to better reach the sensitive skin above her skip-quick pulse.

“Oh.” Josie’s hand stops on the buckle of Hope’s thin patent leather belt. She pulls back to look Hope in the eye. “Do you not want…?” 

“No, I do.” Hope laughs self-deprecatingly because truly it’s absurd how suddenly ready she is after a little making out. “I definitely do.” 

She plays with the short hairs at the nape of Josie’s neck. They’re damp from the bath and curl around her fingers. Josie’s eyes slide closed at the feeling and Hope’s lip pull up into a soft smile.   
  


“But you don’t have to thank me, Jose. I mean, you do the same for me.”

Which is true. This is just how they are. Or they were? They did little things for each other for years. Hope doesn’t want Josie to think she expects anything more now that they’ve started (not so) occasionally sleeping together.

Josie’s eyes slide open. Eyelids still at half-mast as Hope continues to play with Josie’s hair. She assumes that’s why her pupils are bigger than Hope remembered them being a moment ago.   
  


Josie watches her through her lashes a moment longer before leaning in to kiss the curve of Hope’s cheek. “Fair.” 

And Hope figures that’s the end of it. Racing pulse be damned. She can always go for a run through the park or take care of matters herself. It’s hardly an issue, either way. 

She untangles her fingers from Josie's hair and sweeps her hand down her back to pull the brunette into an easy hug. Josie just smells so good it’s hard _not_ to hug her like this.

Josie apparently has other ideas.

She lets Hope pull her closer, but her hands stay on the shorter woman’s belt. Her nose brushes the small white gold hoops in Hope’s ear as she says, “But what if I want to do this.”

“Oh.” Hope swallows, nodding. Her hand instinctively drops to Josie’s hip, thumb brushes over the soft terry cloth covering it. “Does that mean I could...?”

“No.” Josie shakes her head, the denial softened by the fact she’s still nuzzling Hope’s earlobe. 

“Are you sure? I promise I don’t mind--”

“I know.” Josie kisses her jaw. “But this is about you right now. Not me.” Another kiss, this time with teeth. “You can pay me back in a couple of days.”

Hope angles her head in acquiescence, palms at the fabric covering Josie’s lower back. “Promise?”

She can feel Josie grin against her throat. “Promise.” 

Then she’s pulling open the buckle on her belt and Hope can’t do much more than try to keep her hands in respectful places. 

xxxx

Three days later she gets a text from Josie at work that has her pulse thrumming like she just finished a go in the park.

_ <<So about that payback _...>>

It’s innocuous. But for Hope, who has been waiting for this all week, it sets her mind racing with images. She plants her feet on the floor, centers herself, and sends an equally casual response. 

_ <<Oh, yeah?>> _

She sets her phone on her desk and places her fingers decidedly on her computer’s keyboard. There are a few emails she needs to respond to sooner rather than later. She should do that now. 

Her eyes stray to her silent phone...

She should probably be concerned with how thirsty she is for her best friend after only a few weeks of casually hooking up. It’s only been a week since she’s gotten to touch Josie, and her fingers already miss the feel of her, her mouth--

Her phone buzzes with a text. Hope studiously keeps typing. It buzzes again with another text. 

The sentence she was in the middle of typing now features an impressive keyboard smash. Her phone is in her hand before she even realizes she has reached for it. 

_ <<Yeah.>>_

_< <I’ve been thinking about it all week.>> _

_ <<Thinking about what exactly?>> _Hope drums her fingers in the desk. She reaches for the mouse to delete her earlier typo, when her phone buzzes again. 

_ <<That it’s been too long since you fucked me.>> _

“Oh, fuck.” Hope hears herself say before realizing she is very much still in her office. Her head jerks up to make sure the door to her office is closed. 

_ <<Holy shit. >>_

_< <Josie.>> _

The response comes soon enough and it leaves Hope’s mouth dry. 

_ <<I think you should use the strap. What do you think?>> _

Hope has to forcibly close her eyes and count to ten. She can feel her pulse in her hands, can feel it thumping down between her legs.

_ <<I think that we’re at work.>> _

_ <<No fun. *eye roll emoji*>> _

Hope relents a little. Because it’s honestly not like she minds, per se. Certainly wouldn’t be opposed to this train of conversations on another day, even. It's just… It’s been a week. Since she was able to touch Josie. Able to really let go. And she feels like she’s on a hair-trigger here.

_ <<Save the fun for when we get home.>> _

_ <<Deal.>> _

xxxx

The wait is more than worth it.

“Fuck,” Josie grits out as Hope slides inside of her. “I’ve missed this.”

Hope’s busy sucking a bruise into the plane of Josie’s shoulder blade, but she pulls back enough to return the sentiment. Her next stroke is borderline vicious to prove her point. She’s rewarded by the most beautiful, high-pitched gasp and then there’s little to no talking at all until many long, sweaty minutes later after she’s flipped Josie over, one long-overdue orgasm down.

“Has it really only been a week?” Josie gasps into Hope’s mouth as Hope fucks her into the mattress, a little more slowly this time around -- Josie’s still a little tender from last week off and Hope keeps that in mind even as her hips beg to snap forward with punishing speed. 

Josie’s hands clutch at Hope’s back. Hope knows her fingernails would be leaving blood-red crescent moon marks if she weren’t impervious to such minor physical afflictions. Hope is momentarily caught up in her annoyance at this fact, at not being able to see Josie’s marks in the mirror tomorrow morning, she lets the truth slip past her lips right onto Josie’s tongue. 

“Feels like forever.”

“God, yes,” Josie groans in response. Hope isn’t sure if it’s for her words or the particularly deep thrust she just delivered.

Sometime later, after Josie’s reached her limit and in response reached down between Hope’s legs and slid her long fingers between the harness and Hope’s superheated skin to rub Hope’s clit until Hope was gasping into the pillow beside Josie’s head, they shift around on the bed to lie next to each other, sated and out of breath.

Hope hasn’t even bothered to mess with the buckles and straps across her hips, she’s so content to lay regain her breath in the comfortable silence that follows a good fuck with her best friend. Her eyes track the lazy-slow circulations of the ceiling fan when Josie drops her hand to Hope’s thigh. 

Hope turns her head to look at her, hair damp and face still flushed, but Josie’s eyes are clear and brimming with mischievous heat when she says, “Let’s not wait that long again.”

Hope can’t help but grin, her body still coasting down from a deliciously all-encompassing high. “Deal.”

xxxx

A few days later, finds Hope staying up late, going over paperwork at the kitchen table. She just landed a new artist for the gallery and it’s been a headache to broker. 

Josie has to be up early, so she calls it quits, dropping a kiss on Hope’s head and going to bed. Hope watches longingly, wanting nothing more than to follow. It’s been a long day and her back is starting to hurt from the uncomfortable chair. 

Finally, an hour later, she finishes and turns out the kitchen light. She enters her room and is surprised to find the bed made and a clean pair of pajamas folded on the pillow. 

_Josie._

She must have come in while Hope was trapped in the kitchen and made the bed just like she knows Hope likes. Hope is exhausted but as she strips off and puts on her favorite soft tee Josie laid out and turns out the lights and snuggles up under crisp sheets, she finds herself smiling. 

She doesn’t think about it too hard, though. This is just the kind of caring thing Josie has been doing for her since they moved in together. She’ll find a way to thank Josie for her thoughtfulness tomorrow. The only difference now is that these days Hope is considering going down on her before breakfast as thanks. 

For now, though, she’s too tired to do anything but fall asleep cozy and content in the fact she’s lucky to have a roommate who cares for her. 

xxxx

“I wanna try something. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Hope answers honestly, immediately. 

“Okay. Good.”

Josie props herself up on one elbow beside Hope. They’re in Josie’s bed, Hope sprawled on her back. Josie runs her free hand up and down the midline of Hope's body, from the hollow of her throat, through the valley between her breast, down to where she’s warm and wet between her legs. 

On her next pass, Josie starts siphoning. Not a lot, but just enough Hope can feel the energy transfer as Josie’s fingers travel down, then back up. 

“Fuck,” Hope moans. 

It feels… Well, it feels like magic, if she’s being honest. Pun intended. The whisper-soft pressure of Josie’s fingertips coupled with the warm taffy pull of the other woman pulling the magic from her body. Her hips cant up to meet Josie’s hand as it skates past her belly button. 

She whimpers when Josie stays low, begins circling her clit now, rather than start another trip up. 

“God, you feel so good,” Josie says, voice low, eyes locked on the soft red glow surrounding her fingers where they’re working Hope. Josie swallows a groan, slides closer, presses herself to Hope’s side. “I can feel how turned on you are through your magic.”

Hope shivers, has to close her eyes at the idea of Josie being able to feel Hope’s desire through the magic she’s pulling from her. She tips her head back and wonders why the fuck they’ve never thought to do this before.

She can feel the shift when Josie stops siphoning, like a valve being wrenched off. She shudders. Then Josie’s muttering some spell under her breath, but Hope doesn’t get a chance to try to decipher it, because then Josie’s left her clit and is pushing in two fingers easily and when she flutters them inside, Hope feels a heavy mirror sensation fluttering back on her clit.

“Oh, _shittt_ ,” she moans, bowing up from the bed. She throbs in tune with the movements. “Holy—” Josie does it again and Hope sees stars. 

Josie coaxes her through two orgasms back to back like that before her reserve of magic dries up and Hope is gasping against the sheets.

“How did you- Fuck. Where did you learn to do that Jose?” Hope pants as she drags the taller girl in for a kiss.

Josie looks beyond pleased with herself and Hope really can’t blame her. “I may have done a little research. It’s amazing what you can find on the internet.”

“All those years researching horrible monsters back at Salvatore and this is what we could have been working on?” Hope groans flopping back onto the pillow and pulling Josie with her.

“Better late than never.”

Josie settles in next to her, her head resting on Hope’s chest, the still quick thrum of Hope’s heart against her ear. “College would have gone so much easier if I could have just done _that_ when I had too much energy to burn. That was better than wolfing out.” 

“Really?” Josie asks, obviously curious.

“Oh, yeah,” Hope twists her fingers in the hair at the back of Josie’s neck and pulls her up for a heavy kiss. “By a fucking _mile_.”

It’s deeper, this satisfaction. Better than merely spent muscles. The energy inside her is still strong, but it’s focused now. The static is gone and in its place is the feel of Josie’s body against hers. 

Warm. Solid. Important. 

Josie’s responding giggles get caught in her throat as Hope uses the grip in her hair to tilt her head back enough to expose the soft expanse of Josie’s neck and works her way down. She finds the sensitive spot beneath Josie’s ear, sucks on it hard, and revels in the way Josie molds to her body, legs and limbs tangling together.

She may not be able to do whatever the hell siphoning magic Josie just did to her, but Hope will be damned if she doesn’t have other tricks up her sleeves to pay her back and then some.

xxxx

“Jose. Babe.” Hope presses a kiss to Josie’s shoulder. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Josie whines. She slumps back into the hard back of the kitchen chair. One hand tangled with Hope’s where it’s resting on her shoulder, the other shuffles the computer printouts in front of her. 

Hope lets her thumb press into the knotted muscle she finds along the edge on her roommate’s shoulder blade and is rewarded with a high pitched groan of relief. She smiles to herself before focusing on the papers Josie has on the table. 

“Do you want me to run back over the list of questions they might ask you tomorrow?” 

Josie grumbles noncommittally. “I dunno. Did the last run-through not sound good?”

“No, I thought you did perfect actually. Hell, I’d promote you and I’m not even hiring.”

“Well. You’re biased.”

Hope scoffs in mock offense. “Excuse me, I can be an incredibly impartial judge when I need to be.”

“Right,” Josie grins, tilting her face back to look at Hope. “So that assessment has nothing to do with wanting to coax me away from this interview prep and into your bed?”

“Yes.” 

Hope feels the knot finally unsnarl under the steady pressure of her thumb. She soothes the area with another few slow and steady circles. 

“They'd have to be crazy to not offer you the promotion, Josie.” 

Her hand migrates north to sweep across the line of Josie’s upturned jaw. 

“You _deserve_ it.” 

Tucks Josie’s hair behind one delicate, multi-studded ear. She feels Josie’s answering shiver and grins wolfishly. 

“Besides.” Leaning down, she lets her lips brush the curve of that same earlobe. “Who says I need to coax you into my bed to do what I want?” 

She can hear Josie’s hand clench in her papers at the change in voice, so much lower and more intimate than it was a few moments ago. Watches Josie’s throat, so close to her lips, bob with a swallow. 

“Who says I can’t do what I want to you right here at this table?”

“And what do you want?” Josie manages. 

Hope kisses the soft skin of Josie’s neck, right below her ear. “To help you of course, silly.”

Hope strokes a hand down her throat, along her collarbones through the loose neck of her shirt. Josie tilts her chin into the borderline possessive touch. Easily grants Hope whatever space she wants. 

“And how,” another swallow, “do you intend to do that?” 

“Well,” Hope says contemplatively as she plays idly with one of the drawstrings on Josie’s zip-up hoodie. The action brushes her knuckles just along the curve of Josie’s breasts. “If you feel good about the interview prep…” 

“I do,” Josie responds with a nod of her head. Her chin is still tipped back and her eyes still closed. “Really good.”

Hope grins. “Good.”

Every inch of Josie exudes the most intoxicating trust Hope’s ever experienced. _God_ , having Josie like this, relaxing so fully into her touch, goes straight to Hope’s head. 

She has loved every way they’ve fucked, honestly, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love this way just a little teensy bit more. 

It could be her inner wolf, clamoring always for dominance. Or it could be something softer, something that still revels in the fact that Josie trusts _her_ of all people. Trusts Hope even after all of her missteps and flaws. All of their complicated decades of history. 

Hope drags her nose down Josie’s throat. 

Whatever the hell it is, it has Hope’s nerves singing with want. And it’s all pointed directly at the woman sitting in front of her. 

“Well, then,” Hope says, maintaining that even, low voice she knows from experience drives Josie crazy. “It seems to me...” 

She’s running her thumbnail up and down the teeth of the jacket’s zipper, the sound hypnotic in the otherwise quiet kitchen, focusing them on her still chaste movements. 

Hope allows herself a slow open-mouthed kiss at the base of Josie’s jaw, teeth just barely worrying the soft skin. “That the only thing left to do, babe...” 

She’s drawing this out, honing Josie’s interest like the edge of a blade. Testing her patience. And when it’s finally sharp enough to wear away Josie’s restraint…

“Yes?” Josie asks, breathless and so low Hope can almost taste it where her mouth is on Josie’s neck. 

Hope grins. _Bingo_. 

“Let me take your mind off of things.” Hope pulls Josie’s chair back from the table easily. The legs barely even scrape on the linoleum, and then she’s on her knees between Josie and the table before the other woman can even blink her eyes open. 

When she does, they're so new-moon-dark Hope wants to howl. Instead, she rests her hands high on Josie’s thighs and returns her best friend’s gaze. She flexes her fingers and feels the muscles quiver through the soft flannel of Josie’s pajama pants.

“What do you say?”

Josie parts her legs, lets her thighs fall open for Hope, and Hope can’t help but let her body lean into the offered space. 

She darts her eyes up to Josie’s. Josie nods her head, lip tucked between her teeth as they grin at each other. They work together to pull Josie’s pants and down her legs. And then Josie is ass-naked and squirming impatiently on the kitchen chair as Hope settles back in between her slim thighs.

Hope takes a second to breathe Josie in. Let’s the heat of her settle onto the back of her tongue. She lets her hands run up Josie’s smooth legs and settle on her hips. She pulls her to the edge of her seat. 

“Fucking--” _Jesus,_ if this isn’t a sight she’ll never get tired of: Josie open, wet and ready for her. A shiver plays scales up her vertebrae. “Gorgeous,” she says to herself.

One of Josie’s hands rests on her own, the other hovering tentatively above Hope’s shoulder. “Can I--?”

“Of course.”

Josie’s hand lands on Hope’s shoulder then snakes up into Hope’s hair. Not directing, just holding her close. Hope knows Josie does it ground herself, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t benefit from the gentle pressure pulling at the nape of her neck.

There is a time to draw things out, Hope knows. A time to tease and a time to lean into the foreplay she has Josie writhing under her touch. A time to let anticipation pave the way to endless pleasure.

Now is not one of those times. It’s already late and she’d rather suffer the C line at rush hour than have Josie be sleep-deprived for her interviews tomorrow. So without further ado, she leans in and, one hand keeping Josie’s shirt pushed up out of the way up by her belly button, licks a firm stripe from the bottom of her glistening cunt to the top. 

The groan she lets slip at the taste of her roommate is the furthest thing from contrived. Hope really and truly just cannot for the life of her get enough of the taste of Josie on her tongue.

A strangled little _fuck_ falls from Josie’s lips above her as dives in earnest. The hand at the back of her head clenches.

Hope can savor the tangy, earthy taste another time. Right now, she gives Josie exactly what she needs, zeroing in with firm, consistent licks to her clit.

Josie hooks one knee over Hope’s shoulder and Hope takes it as her cue to add fingers, sliding two in like they’re nothing while her tongue works steadily. Before she knows it, Josie’s curling over the top of her gasping Hope’s name softly.

_Too_ softly, Hope decides as she keeps going.

She presses in another finger. Fucks into Josie’s still-clenching heat with three. Switches up her pattern on Josie’s now over-sensitive bundle of nerves. Circles her tongue lightly around her clit without actually touching it directly until Josie’s a stuttering mess, both hands twisted up in Hope’s hair as she rides her face to another orgasm.

When Josie finally pushes Hope back from her cunt, mouth and chin wet, lips red from her efforts and drags her up into a sloppy, tired kiss, Hope is willing to bet work is the last thing on her best friend’s mind. 

xxxx

Despite all of their (incredibly thorough) prep the night before, Hope is on tenterhooks all the next day. It’s not even her promotion and she’s nervous.

But then again, that’s hardly surprising. Even in high school, it was an open secret that Hope cared more for Josie’s well-being and happiness than her own. Years of best friendship and closeness have hardly assuaged that inclination.

She hears nothing from Josie all day. No call, no response to Hope’s good luck texts. Nothing.

It has Hope’s skin crawling worse than the time Salvatore was infected with brain worms. 

By the time five o’clock rolls around, she is out the door of her gallery like a shot. She forces herself to walk at a normal human pace to the subway even though her heart is desperately calling for her to splurge and catch a taxi straight home.

Even with her marvelous show of restraint, she beats Josie home.

She sits at the counter, portfolio of a potential artist in front of her, and plays at nonchalance for four excruciating minutes before the front food bangs open to reveal a radiantly triumphant Josie. Hope leaps up like the seat had burned her ass.

Thankfully, Josie doesn’t make her wait any longer. She pulls a bottle of champagne from a paper bag and exclaims, “Guess who got the fucking promotion?!”

Hope doesn’t know whose grin is bigger, hers or Josie. She pulls the other woman into a fierce hug. 

“Holy shit, Jos!” Hope squeals as they bounce around the kitchen in a jumping hug of exultation, just narrowly knocking into the fridge. “This is amazing!”

“You’re looking at the newest Key Account Manager,” Josie squeals right back into Hope’s ear.

Finally, they calm enough to stop with the pogo-stick routine. Hope pulls back and places a hand on Josie’s jaw as they continue to beam into each other’s faces. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”

The cheek under her thumb pinks slightly and Josie ducks her head as she says a soft, “Thanks,” her lip tucked bashfully between her teeth in what is still the cutest display of nerves Hope has ever seen, 28 wild years into life on this planet. 

She can’t help but kiss her just as soft.

“I’m calling MG,” Hope says when they break apart, “and telling him to bring Lizzie and _more_ champagne. This calls for a goddamned celebration.”

“Wait.” Josie catches Hope’s hand before it can reach for her cell phone. “Before you call them…” She starts backing Hope up to her bedroom. “I think I’d like to celebrate just the two of us first.”

Hope grins. “Well seeing as you’re the new boss…”

Josie leans in with a cocky kiss that has Hope keeping her close. "Not exactly _the_ boss, but..."

" _A_ boss, then," Hope corrects, paying more attention to Josie's lips a hairsbreadth away from her own than whatever the heck they're even talking about.

Boss or no boss, they don’t end up calling Lizzie and MG until the next day. If there's one thing Hope and Josie have learned, it's to celebrate the wins life gives them, in whatever way they can.

xxxx

Hope opens the door to her bedroom and does a double-take. 

“I could have sworn this was my bedroom, not yours,” she says to her roommate’s sprawled form.

Josie shifts in the bed, _Hope’s_ bed, and pauses whatever she’d been watching on her laptop. “Did you say something?” She asks, popping one headphone out.

Hope shakes her head and starts digging through her drawers for something more comfortable than her work outfit. It’s late and she just wants to _stop_ being vertical. 

“Yes,” she says, pulling out her favorite sleep tee. Hope isn’t sure where she got it from originally, but it’s just the perfect stage of worn-in soft. “What are you doing in my bed?”

Josie looks around like she’s genuinely surprised to find herself here as well. “Um…” 

Hope raises an eyebrow and kicks her heels off in the general direction of her closet. 

“I was waiting for you?” Josie suggests, smile sheepish and hopeful and 100% clueing Hope into the fact she’s lying.

“You still haven’t made your bed yet have you?”

Josie deflates, groaning. “It’s just so much work, Hope!” 

Hope doesn’t dignify that answer with a response, just walks over and turns her back to Josie silently asking her to unzip her dress. Which Josie does automatically, still complaining.

“Is it not enough that I took the sheets off and _washed_ them? Why do I have to put them back on the bed, too? Can I know no peace?”

“Clearly the world is out to get you,” Hope responds solemnly. She pulls her bra off — finally! she’s been waiting to do that ever since she got into the sweaty subway car at seven o’clock this morning — and pulls the t-shirt over her head. “I’ll never understand how you can manage fifty accounts from here to Boston, but can’t manage a single fitted sheet.”

“Well that’s simple,” Josie says. “Fitted sheets are of the devil.”

Hope scoffs.

When she turns back towards the bed after hanging her dress up, Josie is looking a little dazedly at her bare legs. Her eyes snap up to Hope’s when the shorter woman walks towards the bed. “If I promise to do that thing you like, can I sleep in here tonight?”

Hope pauses. “ _Which_ thing I like?” Because really there’s a whole list and Josie will need to be a bit more specific. 

Josie’s already closing her laptop and setting it on the nightstand beside the bed. “How about I try a few and then you tell me which one you want?” 

“Deal.” She stops, one knee on the bed, to shoot Josie a suspicious look. “And then tomorrow we are putting your sheets on your bed.”

“Fine, fine,” Josie agrees easily, hand already grabbing for Hope’s hips. 

“Because you’re like a fucking toaster oven when you sleep.”

Josie rolls her eyes but nods and Hope finally lets herself be pulled down. “You could always just wear fewer clothes.”

“You don’t enjoy taking them off of me?”

“Good point.” 

xxxx

“I can’t believe all of this started from me complaining about someone biting my tits.”

Josie shudders against Hope’s side. The covers have been kicked down around their waists, so when Josie trails her fingers up Hope’s bare abdomen she can watch their ascent. “I am going to bite your tits if you don’t stop calling them that. You know I hate that word.”

"You would not," Hope shrieks, squirming away and covering her chest protectively.

Josie follows her across the bed, laughing along with Hope. She grabs Hope and pulls her back against her body, warm skin against warm skin as she makes a show of kissing the top of Hope’s breast. "Look, some things are deserved when you're an asshole.”

Hope smacks at Josie’s shoulder and rolls her over, pinning her to the bed. When Josie makes to squirm away, Hope presses her hips down into Josie’s. 

They’re both already wet and the sensation of slippery heat has Josie moaning beneath her. Or maybe it's just a continuation of their last session. It’s a little hard to keep track these days. Hope is kind of always turned on now that she can have Josie in her bed or any other surface in their apartment whenever she wants.

She grinds down into Josie again and Josie tips her head back against the pillow, baring her throat. Hope’s nostrils flare at the sight. She feels an appreciative growl rumble up from her chest. 

Josie’s eyes open at the sound. Her pupils are blown wide as she looks up at Hope looming over her through her pretty lashes. “Do you wanna get the strap?” Josie asks as her hips rise to meet Hope’s. 

“No,” Hope answers, growl still audible in her voice. That’d take too much time and the wolf inside of her is demanding she take Josie _now_. “Worried I can’t take care of you without it?” Hope chuckles darkly. 

Her inner wolf bristles at the insinuation. Has her hips snapping forward that much harder in a show of force. How dare Josie suggest she couldn’t fuck her satisfactorily with just her fingers or mouth. How dare Josie suggest she couldn’t take care of what’s hers.

Josie gasps as a particularly fortuitous move rubs across her clit. “Are you kidding me?” she asks laughing breathlessly. “I know you can take care of me. You just seemed in the mood for a little dominance.” 

Hope feels her lips lift into a snarl and fights the urge to lean down and sink her teeth into the soft skin of Josie’s neck. “I don’t need a strap-on to do that,” she manages to bite out. 

She knows it’s just her instincts talking, but Josie seems to know exactly what to do to ramp Hope up. She feels her control fraying. Josie may not have ever dated a wolf before, but she seems to know exactly how to play to Hope’s wolf side. Just enough challenge in her voice to goad her forward, but enough acquiescence so Hope knows she wants this too. 

God, does Hope want this. Her teeth almost _ache_ with the need to lean down and claim what’s being offered. Her whole body feels like a tuning fork, vibrating at Josie’s touch.

And Josie… Josie moans and rolls her body up into the contact. Josie lifts her hands to rest on the pillow beside her head in further supplication. “Show me,” she says, eyes like liquid heat as their gazes meet.

So Hope leans down and does just that.

xxxx

Hope’s standing in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to percolate, trying to stretch the kinks out of her neck when Josie stumbles in.

“Hey,” Josie croaks, slumping next to Hope. She rests her head on Hope’s shoulder and yawns directly into her ear. Hope shoves her lightly, but it’s rather more endearing than annoying.

“I know I said last night that you might have won me over to the couch, but this morning I’m having regrets.” The back of her neck is so tight she can feel the twinge of pain in her nasal cavity when she tips her chin forward. 

She didn’t even know that was physically possible. But then again, anything is possible, she supposes as a result of getting absolutely drilled into the world’s least padded couch. She really should have put a pillow behind her head last night, but she’d been a little distracted, and then, when Josie slotted three fingers into her cunt, well, then she was a _lot_ distracted. 

So no pillow against the armrest for Hope. At the time it had seemed like a small price to pay for getting thoroughly and completely fucked. 

“Don’t tell me grandma can’t hang,” Josie chuckles when Hope starts massaging the back of her neck. She slides her fingers under Hope’s palm and takes over.

At the firm pressure applied to the tight muscles Hope lets out a little moan of pleasure and slumps into the counter. To get a better angle, Josie redirects her so she’s half leaning on the granite, half leaning into Josie’s front. She alternates between firm palpations and gentle strokes from Hope’s hairline to just beneath the collar of her shirt. Hope shivers under her careful touch. 

It’s not sexual. It’s obvious Josie’s not angling for seduction, just a little tender care. This is the kind of quiet physical intimacy they would have done even before their arrangement. The only difference is that Hope isn’t as shy about groaning her approval into Josie’s shoulder when she presses just right into the knotted muscle. 

By the time the coffee pot beeps a few minutes later, Hope feels like she’s floating on cloud nine. Josie presses a kiss to her temple before releasing her and pulling down two mugs from the cabinet. 

Hope grabs the creamer from the fridge, but before Josie can pour it, Hope pulls her into a gentle kiss. Hand on Josie’s cheek, she whispers “thank you” softly against Josie’s lips then gets back to the much-needed caffeine. She pours Josie’s coffee first, kisses her roommate on the cheek a final time, and floats off to get dressed, feeling so much lighter now after Josie’s loving touch. 

Hope floats through the rest of the morning. Even when her assistant, Evan, tells her the bartending company has canceled for next week’s show and they have to scramble to find a replacement. She thinks about Josie’s delicate fingers on the back of her neck and can breathe a little easier. Just a few more hours and problems solved and she can go home to her best friend.

xxxx

“So, something weird happened today?”

“Hmm, what?”

“I think one of my artists was hitting on me?”

Josie looks up from her book. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Hope sends off another email to the new bartending service she has hired for the event even though it’s way past business hours and they can’t possibly get to her cocktail menu request until tomorrow. 

When she looks up, Josie is still looking at her. It takes her a second to remember what they were talking about. 

Oh, yes. Landon Kirby. 

“I mean it’s not like it’s never happened before, people think they can get anywhere with a few winks and nudges, but like it wasn’t like that? That's why it’s weird.”

“And are you… Interested?”

Hope thinks about it for a second. “No. He’s not even that talented of a sculptor.”

“I see.” Josie shuts her book and sets it on the nightstand next to her. They’re in Hope’s bed, even though the sheets are safely back on Josie’s in the other room. 

The book has been there all week. And so has Josie, Hope realizes not unhappily as she plucks Hope’s phone out of her hands and sets it on Hope’s own side table. 

They move together easily for the kiss that comes next, Hope tilting her chin back to accept Josie’s mouth as she settles fully into her lap. Hope’s hands fall without thinking to her slim hips as Josie’s tangle in her thick hair, almost like they were never meant to be anywhere else. 

Before she can get too lost in the feel of Josie’s mouth on her own though, she pulls back and looks Hope in the eye. 

“Would you tell me,” she asks, eyes dark and watchful and unfathomably deep, “if you _were_ interested in someone?”

It sounds a little like a loaded question. And suddenly Hope feels like she’s back in high school, about to face down some unknown foe. 

But that’s silly. 

This is Josie. Her best friend. Her favorite person. The only person she may trust and love (because, really, aren’t those the same thing when you get down to it?) more than her own aunt. 

“Yes,” she says. “Of course,” she says. 

Ignores the way it feels like a lie even as she knows it to be true.

And then Josie is nodding once, lip tucked between her teeth, before she says a simple “ok,” and closes the space between them, kissing Hope so hard she struggles to remember where she ends and where Josie begins. 

Josie fucks her so well that night, Hope forgets all about the strange way Josie had looked at her when she asked that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if sex isn't enough for some of y'all crazies, don't fret -- next chapter has... dare I say it... some _actual plot_


End file.
